


The Art of Self Destruction

by mothprism (pastel_kaiju)



Series: The Speaker Trilogy [2]
Category: Godzilla: King of The Monsters (2019), Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cryptozoology, F/F, Kaiju, Major Original Character(s), Prequel, Project Monarch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-09-02 05:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20270593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_kaiju/pseuds/mothprism
Summary: A flippant army medic and an anthropologist with a secret are called to join an expedition led by the mysterious organization Monarch. Cut off from everything they know, they journey to an uncharted island deep in the Pacific Ocean. But as their mission of discovery becomes one of survival, they realize that anyone that enters rarely leaves the same. If they leave at all.





	1. 0. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> eyyy guess im back  
this time with something that only serves to set up for the Leviathan sequel and to entertain my dumb lesbian ass while i get my shit together  
either way if u read this you're a real one and thanks for sticking around  
(and before we get too deep, Yes there are very obvious connections to Leviathan in this, and while i didn't change too much of the plot this time, there are some definite changes)

Confusion. Fear.

A flurry of images he couldn't even begin to process flooded his senses, the thundering of his heartbeat lost in the uproar of the warring titans that surrounded him. Before his eyes had the chance to focus, a pair of strong, trembling arms wrapped around him, whisking him away. They were warm - comforting - and he tried desperately to cling to that warmth, but as soon as they appeared, they had gone. He reached out, trying to find the source of that comfort but finding nothing but the cold, rough surface of the stone that now surrounded him. As his sight began to clear, a silhouette stood at the mouth of the cave, illuminated by the sharp streaks of light that darted across the sky. Instinctively, he galloped towards it, stumbling over himself as the jagged rocks beneath him cut into his skin.

Tears prickled at the edge of his eyes, and he could feel the knot of a cry bunched up in his throat. Looking back up at the cave's entrance, he found that the silhouette had also gone.

He scrambled for the sliver of light that peeked through the rock, weak limbs barely holding him steady as he scaled the hill of boulders until finally he reached the small window that was left of it. He could hardly understand the scene that played out outside.

Two figures - ones that looked like him but bigger, stronger - clashed against dozens of others that were very much unlike him. Long and twisting across the ground, they threw themselves at the two figures, tearing into them like it was the only thing they knew. Red and green substances leaked from both parties, blending together to the point where he couldn't tell whose belonged to who.

As one of the crawling creatures flung themselves at the smaller figure, the taller one caught it in their fists, taking it by the jaws and ripping it open. But the victory was short-lived as three more descended on them, each sinking their jaws deep into their limbs until the figure was struggling on the ground.

He shrunk away, letting out a small yelp when the walls of the cave shook as something large crashed into it, sending pebbles hailing down to the floor. He curled into himself, rocking on his heels as he tried desperately to stop the stream of _everything_ from flooding his mind.

It was all too new, too much. Sounds that he did not know filled the dark cave as he hid behind a boulder, flinching with each crash and roar that left his ears ringing.

Until, finally, the ringing stopped.

He hadn't wanted to leave the cave, and he wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally mustered the courage to, but as he crept through the small window that was left through the cave he was met with a valley filled with death.

It was darker now, and those sharp lights that tore through the sky were gone. And so were those creatures, but something told him they wouldn't be gone for long.

So he walked, carefully treading past body after body of beings both familiar and unfamiliar. No matter how hard he tried avoiding it, by the time he reached the bodies belonging to the last two to go down, he found his hands stained with red. But he didn't care. The only thing on his mind was to run toward the forms laying side by side before him. The taller one was still, their face frozen in one of pain and anguish, deep slashes marring their body. The one beside them was also statuesque, but their chest still rose and fell with labored breaths, their only eye straining to stay open as it slowly focused on his approaching form. The figure seemed to smile, eyes nearly crinkling closed as he huddled closer to their rapidly draining warmth.

As he curled into their shoulder, a single shaky hand brought itself up to him, barely finding the strength to close around him in a weak attempt at an embrace. He looked up into the being's warm, brown eye, and a feeling he couldn't quite describe filled him.

But in that same moment, the hand around him fell away, thudding to the ground as the warmth left too. The eye closed.

Once again, he was not sure how long he sat there with them, or when he pulled himself away. But when he did he felt a light, cold and distant, drape itself across him and everything he could see. In the sky above was adorned with ribbons of color, dancing across the stars that dotted the abyss. That feeling had come back - as did the tears - only this time, there was something more, and he let it all spill forward like a flood.

Confusion. Fear.

_Rage_.

For better or for worse, there was no one there to hear him, so Kong wept.


	2. A Bad Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day bc this is just character set up stuff  
gonna try to stick to the same schedule i had with Leviathan too

Earth, 1973: Norfolk, Virginia

"Time to start packing your bags, Cooper!"

Connie gasped, turning around so sharply a page or three slipped from the beige folder in her hand. They floated gently in the air before she frantically attempted to grab at them, only to send the remaining articles down to the floor. She stood up straighter, bracing herself against her desk as she rubbed her eyes from behind the circular glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose.

She hadn't even heard their footsteps down the hall, let alone the sound of the door opening when they entered. She let out a breath of relief when she saw that the source of the sudden intrusion came from Randa, who seemed entirely unfazed by her blunder as he placed his hat on the coat rack by the door, a jovial grin adorning his face. The man behind him, Brooks, was already stepping ahead of him to join her in picking up the papers off of the floor. She gave him a nod of thanks.

Carefully placing the folder into its cabinet, she turned around, letting out an exasperated sigh as she leaned against her desk. With Monarch tip-toeing the line of bankruptcy, she had been expecting bad news all week. But the bearded man was still in an oddly chipper mood, and although Brooks was much more reeled in than his senior, he was undoubtedly in good spirits as well. And that could have only meant one thing.

"So I take it everything went okay?"

"You could say that." Brooks said, tiredly rubbing the back of his head.

Connie's brows raised ever so slightly. "You actually got the funding?"

Brooks and Randa shared a look.

That had been their main concern for years now, and with the war declared over for no more than a few hours, Monarch had officially reached the bottom of the government's priority list. And as luck would have it, the first ever satellite image of a land lost to time had fallen into their hands just weeks prior. Until then, the only proof they had of its existence was rooted in legend. The words _'Skull Island'_ having been thrown around in small circles across the globe. 'The land where god never finished creation' as Randa liked to call it. It intrigued her to say the least.

Regardless, Connie knew the government wouldn't just send them off based on a grainy photo and a hunch. But Randa was a special kind of persistent, and she doubted he would've let that stop him.

"Yes..and no. The deal is that it's gonna be a joint operation between Landsat and Monarch."

"Spared no expense, huh?" she said with a hint of sarcasm, lazily folding her arms. _A bunch of scientists on an uncharted island? What could go wrong_, she thought.

"We've _also_ been given a military escort." Brooks added.

Though that didn't dispel her worry completely, she allowed herself to ease up a little.

"The point is," Randa cut in. "We're going."

Connie nodded, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her sleeves. "So, when _are_ we leaving?"

"In about a day's time we'll be headed for the South Pacific." he continued.

That knocked the wind out of her. _A day?_ Not even a meager day and a half. Of course she had all of her necessities ready and waiting back home in case the plan got the green light, she just hadn't expected everything to fall into place so quickly. Let alone all in one day.

She would never admit it, but something about the impending expedition had her buzzing like a frayed wire. She wasn't afraid, she could never be truly fearful in the face of a possible discovery, especially one as big as this. But dreadful? Maybe. It was silly if she thought about it too much. Connie had been out in the field long before her recruitment into the undisclosed organization, this shouldn't be any different. It _wasn't_ any different. She and her colleagues were all on board for the same thing. And above it all, Randa's curiosity-fueled enthusiasm was infectious. She couldn't back out now.

Her lips drew upward in a small, nervous smile. "Sounds like a plan."

Randa turned to pick his hat up from the rack. "Well, we got people to call so we'll be out of your hair. I'll give you the details later today but for now get some rest." As the two headed out the door, Randa paused for a second. "One day, Coop." he reminded.

"Yeah, I got it." Connie waved them off.

Once they disappeared out the door and down the hall, she sat at her desk, slumping down in the leathery chair behind her. Removing her glasses, she ran a hand through her hair.

_It was gonna be fine_, she thought. _It's gonna be just fine_.

_____

Earth, 1973: Dà Nång Air Base - Vietnam

The whir of helicopter blades and the marching of men running around like herded sheep filled the base, its cacophony becoming one loud budding migraine in Petra's temple.

The inside of the warehouse wasn't any better. Crates upon crates of miscellaneous equipment were being packed on flatbed trucks as though it would make the day pass by faster. Meanwhile, a group of soldiers with familiar faces sat huddled around a crackling record player, its song nearly lost among everything around them.

And through all that, a voice blared on the speakers overhead.

"_Attention all soldiers and base personnel, final troop withdrawal will commence at 0600. Pack your bags, ladies. We're going home._"

She wanted to laugh at that. Home. What a concept.

As she passed by the group of men, the one sitting on the other side of the record player - Mills - briefly looked up from the card game he had been preoccupied with.

"Hey, Doc." he said as they gave each other a fist bump.

The youngest one, Slivko, brought a hand up for a wave. But before any greeting had the chance to slip out, she ruffled his hair with a cheeky grin. Unamused, his hand dropped from the air back at his side.

Feeling the soreness of walking shoot up her legs, she hefted the duffle bag off of her shoulder and onto the floor as she pulled up a seat a fair distance away. The metal chair had already been warmed by the late afternoon heat, but it felt better than standing around in her worn-out combat boots for another minute.

Throwing one leg over the other and folding her hands behind her head, she leaned back, tipping her cap forward to shroud her eyes.

"Hey, Mills."

"Yeah?"

"How many letters did you end up writing her?" the one sitting across from Mills, Reles, asked.

Petra opened one eye.

"Uhh, ten..fifteen?" he shrugged.

"How many did she write you?" Slivko spoke up, seeming genuinely curious.

"I dunno, three or four." Mills responded without a hint of concern.

Everyone cringed.

"Man, you got a shitty mom." the man sitting closest to her responded, completely deadpan as he lowered the book in his hands.

They all burst into teasing laughter at that. Even Petra let out a suppressed chuckle. She was going to miss this.

"_Thank you_, Cole, for clearing that up." Mills rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to tell her when I see her in the next 48 hours."

After that, the laughter and banter had begun to fade, and she almost found herself dozing off. Until one of the men spoke up again.

"So what're you gonna do when you get back to the real world, Chapman?" Reles asked.

"Oh, I'm already set up with uh, Eastern Air Lines? Grace and Billy all moved in in Atlanta they're just..waiting on me."

She could hear the smile in his voice.

"And you, Slivko? Gonna finally finish first grade?"

"Shut up," he drawled, wanting to chuckle. "Nah, man, I got a little sister back home. Ma's probably tearing her hair out having to deal with her all by herself."

There was a lull in the conversation that made Petra's stomach churn. _Just move along_, she thought, silently urging them not to ask her next, if at all.

"Hey, what about you, Sinclair? I _know_ you're still listening."

Her jaw tightened. She shifted in her seat, tipping her cap up to glare at the soldiers only to find them all expectantly waiting an answer. She rolled her shoulders before setting her cap back down.

"I dunno. Maybe you should ask _your_ mom."

That earned another round of snickers. She smiled to herself.

"Real funny."

Thankfully, that had seemed to be enough, as they had turned their attention to some other solider nearby. She let out a soft exhale as she returned to lulling herself back to sleep.

As much as the days dragged overseas, being back 'home' wasn't a big improvement. Maine had stopped feeling like home long before she got deployed. But the war was over, and the orders to head back to the states had already been processed. She didn't _have_ to go back to Maine. She could easily find some hospital on the opposite side of the country that could take her in as a nurse, at the very least.

_I'll cross that bridge when I get there_, she thought as she shifted in her seat, crossing her arms as she found a position comfortable enough. In minutes, Petra drifted away into a light sleep, her mind filling with thoughts of the life that awaited her, the fresh start she craved.

_____

That nap hadn't didn't help much when she finally came to, still feeling the bags under her eyes weighing heavy and her back stiff from the metal folding chair. But the growing headache that had been building throughout the day seemed to be expelled. It had been a couple hours since then, and night silently crept up on the base. And with it, a thunderstorm out of seemingly nowhere.

Thunder boomed in the distance as a steady sheet of rain poured down all around them. Somewhere behind the cover of low-hanging clouds and the hills that encircled the base were thin streaks of lightning. They hadn't bothered Petra when she walked back to her quarters, keeping her head down as beads of water dripped from the bill of her cap. It was the thunder that she wasn't too fond of.

Walking past a cramped-looking phone booth, she spotted Colonel Packard looking as serious as ever.

She couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but something about it made a pile of rocks form in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want to assume the worst, but something about his expression didn't seem to bode well.

Instead of questioning it, she kept walking, thunder continuing to roll over her head.


	3. No Going Back

Earth, 1973: Bangkok, Thailand

It was late, a little after 6 at night by the time the truck began to slow its pace.

They had reached a shipyard, and the smell of fish and brine hit Petra like a train. From what she could see, there wasn't a single idle person on the dock. From sailors boarding and exiting their vessels to vendors selling anything under the sun in cramped rows of sheltered tables, sparks flying from the hulls of ships as their crew finished last-minute repairs. The steam from sizzling seafood mixed with ship fuel made her head dizzy.

Like the base, truckloads of long, metal containers where being hefted aboard the red and white vessel beside her, emblazoned with the name 'Athena' in bold white letters.

"I can't _believe_ we're doing this, are you guys kiddin' me?" Mills spoke from the edge of the truck. "A day away, _one day away_!"

The resentment in his voice was palpable, and although no one responded, she couldn't blame them. Everyone had been looking forward to going home, it seemed as though it was all they could talk about. Until Packard gave them the news late last night. Everyone had reacted with tired groans and upset shouts. But silently, Petra thanked whoever was listening.

Finally, the trucks stopped, and she grabbed her duffle bag as she slid out the back of the vehicle.

"But no, now we gotta go to _another_ island with _another_ jungle."

"Vietnam's not an island, dumbass." Cole muttered.

"Key West is," Mills continued. "And that's exactly where I need to be right now, with a drink in my hand."

"Key West ain't an island either, it's a key."

Mills stopped in his tracks. "You ain't funny, Cole."

Petra walked ahead of them, throwing the bag over one shoulder. The entrance to the ship was only a short distance away before a man shot through the crowd and through the dock, a pair of officers chasing after him. One of their shoulders caught on her arm, roughly tugging her backward. Her pace slowed as she turned to glare at them, only to find that they had since disappeared into the crowd behind her. She rolled her neck, taking a sharp inhale through her nose as she continued to walk.

Up ahead, she could see the Landsat employees clad in their pale blue uniforms. One in particular carrying a clipboard tucked into the crook of his elbow, checking off something on the paper attached as he counted the people boarding the vessel with his pen.

Petra stood behind the woman in front of her, shifting her weight on one foot as she waited for her turn to board.

"Mason Weaver, photographer." she spoke with confidence.

The man did a double take between Mason and the clipboard. "Mason Weaver...is a woman?" he said with a not so subtle look of surprise.

Petra rolled her eyes, leaning out of the vaguely formed line to glare at the man. "There's no problem with that, is there?"

Mason turned to look at her with a tired and overall done expression. Petra gave her a quick wink, and a small grin grew on the other woman's face. Before the man could respond, Mason walked past him.

"Petra Sinclair." she said as she stomped ahead, not even bothering to stop to wait for her name to be crossed out.

At the foot of the stairs that led to the boat's entrance stood Packard, arms crossed. He was talking to the photographer, and Petra decided to hang back.

"But it's people like you," she heard him remark. "That lost us support back home."

Mason's brows raised just slightly. "You're not actually gonna blame the people without guns for losing the war, are you?"

"Camera's way more dangerous than a gun." he said without missing a beat. "And we didn't lose the war, we abandoned it."

Mason nodded, not taking her eyes off of the colonel. "Right." her voice trailed off as she stepped aboard.

Packard shook his head with an amused smile, going back to standing with his arms folded behind his back and staring at the oncoming passengers. Seeing Petra approach the stairs, he gave her a curt nod. She returned it without a word.

_____

Connie had barely gotten any sleep that night.

She wanted to call it a nightmare - it certainly made her feel scared - but all it had been was her. Just her, in a pitch black room. No, room didn't quite capture it. A space? Or a void.

Something about it made that sliver of dread grow into an entire pit. But she tried not to give it much thought, chalking it up to pre-expedition anxieties. Whatever it was, it left her in a cold sweat in the early hours of the morning. And knowing that she wasn't likely to go back to sleep anytime soon, she had decided to start the day early. She came to regret that choice when she found herself standing in line at Bangkok's docks, her eyelids heavy and straining to stay open. Thankfully, the line moved quicker than she expected, and soon enough she found herself standing inside the Athena.

As the vessel finally pushed away from the docks, its horn blaring into the night, the ship's crew herded her with the few other women on the team to the ship's quarters. There were hardly enough of them to fill the entire room - only two combat medics, a Landsat employee, that photographer that replaced the journalist Randa hired, and two Monarch operatives, one of which being herself - but Connie was silently thankful for that. The rooms were cramped, only allowing enough space for two separate rows of bunk beds and a single shelf against the farthest wall. Close to the ceiling was a small porthole.

Choosing a bed close to the center of the room, she slipped her travel bag underneath. As she sat down on the stiff cot, already starting to shrug off her jacket, a familiar face sat on the bunk across from her.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable," Lin San spoke, placing her bag at the foot of her cot. She sounded just as tired as she felt. "There's a briefing on the upper deck in about half an hour. Randa wants us all there."

Connie sighed, slipping her jacket back on.

_____

The room was small, and although the chairs had been packed as tightly together as they could, much of the crew was still standing off to the side or at the back of the room.

Much to her relief, Petra sat at the edge of one of the rows toward the front, right next to Slivko. She hated the feeling of being in a crowded space, and if those bunk beds weren't enough, this was comparably worse. What with the endless muttering of the soldiers around her to the sound of waves crashing against the boat from all sides. She felt like a sardine in a can, and she couldn't wait for this to be over.

"Hello and welcome," A man with dark hair and a thick mustache walked to the front of the room, sliding a screen down the wall as someone in the back turned on a projector with a click. On the screen was an all-black image that displayed the words 'top secret' in repeating letters.

"I'm Landsat field supervisor Victor Nieves. And this is my colleague, Steve Woodward, our data wrangler."

Nieves gestured to one of the blue-jacketed men in the row of chairs beside her. Glancing to the side, she saw it was the same man from the docks. She crossed her arms.

The man continued with his briefing, the projector shuttering as it switched slides.

"Our expedition takes us to a place every nautical trade route known to man has avoided for centuries. As our satellites show,"

The image on the screen switched to a black and white photo of what was clearly an island, a spiral of storm clouds trapping it within its eye. But that wasn't what made Petra uneasy. The shape of it was unlike anything she had ever seen. It almost looked like a misshapen skull.

"The island is surrounded by a perpetual storm system, allowing it to remain hidden from the outside world. But with Colonel Packard's helicopter transport, we will be the first to break through to the other side."

Nieves pointed his gaze toward a small group standing to the opposite side of the room.

"We're also pleased to be joined, for the first time, by the resource exploration team led by Mr. William Randa."

A tall, bearded man stood a little straighter at the sound of his introduction.

"And accompanied by biologist, Ms. Lin San,"

A short woman with a bandanna wrapped around her hair nodded toward the others in the room.

"Geologist, Mr. Houston Brooks,"

The man next to her made no gesture, only letting his eyes pass over everyone there.

"And anthropologist, Ms. Constance Cooper."

The woman at the end of the row looked up, seemingly snapped out of a daze, and gave a brief flash of a smile before looking back down at her hands.

"Our focus will be on the island's surface," Nieves continued. "Theirs, what lies beneath. Mr. Brooks?"

Nieves stepped aside as Brooks took over the briefing.

"It's simple, really. We'll use explosives to shake the earth and create vibrations, helping us to map the subsurface of the island."

The projector shuttered again, this time showing a clearer map of the island. Only this time, it was joined by multiple targets scattered throughout its surface. Brooks took a pointer and tapped the screen.

"We'll fly in over the south shore and then strategically drop seismic charges to better help us understand the density of the earth."

Then the screen changed to a blueprint of the charges. Petra yawned.

"You're dropping bombs?" a voice from the back of the room carried over.

Everyone glanced over their shoulder.

Brooks hummed. "Scientific instruments." he corrected.

"You hear that boys? We're scientists now!" Slivko jokingly remarked.

Petra rolled her eyes with a grin on her face while a few scattered chuckles filled the room.

"You guys are _not_ scientists." Woodward muttered to himself.

"We'll then land and make base camp for ground excursions led by Mr. Conrad." Nieves outstretched a hand toward the back of the room, pointing to the source of the unsolicited comment.

"Major Jack Chapman?"

The man sitting in front of her stood up, replacing Brooks' position at the front of the room.

"All right, once on the island the storm's interference will block all radio contact with the ship. That means we'll be by ourselves."

Petra knew she shouldn't have felt the wave of discomfort that she did, she'd been dropped in worse places, but something about this felt off. She didn't like it.

"Three days later, the refuel team will meet us here on the north end of the island. That may be our only safe departure window for an unknown period of time. So, tip for everybody, don't miss it please."

_Well that's comforting_, she thought.

_____

Petra didn't know what time it was, but stars still dotted the sky like holes through paper.

The boys had wanted to hang out in the mess hall until curfew, but since the briefing, her mood for socialization dropped a significant amount. Breaking away from the troop, she found that she had wandered to the top deck, the ocean's cool sea breeze sending loose strands of hair from her bun flying past her face. Out in the open air, the sound of waves crashing all around her wasn't nearly as suffocating.

If there was anything she liked most about her job, it was the journey, and the sights that came along with it.

She leaned over the railing, eyes scanning the darkened horizon as water lapped at the hull of the ship. Behind her, soldiers and Landsat employees scurried across the deck, checking this and prepping that. It was almost too similar a scene, and for a moment Petra felt a rush of déjà vu pass over her.

Suddenly, a sound from a couple feet away jolted her out of her thoughts.

She squinted through the darkness, peering down a dimly lit area with the words 'RESTRICTED AREA' painted across its entrance. Giving a quick glance around, she stepped away from the railing, carefully slipping past the detection of a pair of Landsat men and into the storage room.

As she made her way down the winding pathway carved from metal containers, a shape stepped into the corner of her eye. Petra whipped her head around. Frozen in place with a camera in hand stood Mason.

"_What are you doing down here?_" she kept her voice low in a harsh, questioning whisper.

"I could ask you the same thing." she retorted, lowering the camera as she stepped closer.

"Well, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't caught you snooping around."

"Snooping?" she said, feigning offense. She held up her camera. "I'm just doing my job."

Mason calmly walked past her, running a hand along one of the shipping containers and stopping right above one with the Landsat logo.

"Why does a geological mapping mission need explosives?" she wondered out loud.

Petra raised a brow as she followed her. "They're just seismic charges. Not paying attention in class?"

Mason turned slightly as she continued walking through the crates, giving her a skeptical look. "Uh huh. And you believed all that?"

"That's _not_ what I said." Petra jogged up to her.

"Right." Mason said as she looked through the camera's viewfinder before adjusting the lens. "You're just following orders from Colonel Packard then?"

Petra let out an exasperated huff of a chuckle. "Already met him, huh?"

"_Yeah_," she said with briefly widened eyes. "The guy's wound pretty tight."

"You're telling me. He's a decorated war hero, with an attitude to match."

_A real hardass_, is what she wanted to say.

"But what about you?" she stopped walking just short of the entrance to the storage room. "Isn't a routine mapping mission a bit boring for a war photographer?"

"Anti-war photographer." She corrected as she stopped as well, fully facing Petra. "And the right photo can help shape opinions." she spoke with conviction.

"Good point," Petra grinned, crossing her arms as she leaned against a crate. "But I'd need more than a photo to see the bigger picture."

Mason's eyes glanced down at the dog tag that hung loosely from Petra's neck.

"Okay, Sinclair." she said, the ghost of a smile forming on her face as their gazes locked together in a stare-off. "What about -"

Suddenly, the glow of a light outside of the storage room illuminated the space just outside, and the two ducked behind a crate.

"Shit," Petra whispered.

Before the light source could turn the other way, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, tugging her off to the side and down another path of sharp turns. For a moment she thought Mason was dragging her further in, until she spotted a rusty door at the end of the storage space. Petra let herself be dragged along, occasionally looking behind them for any sign of a follower, or up ahead at the woman's dirty blonde hair that almost seemed to glow red from the lighting.

Finally, they reached the other side, Mason grunting as she struggled to turn the wheeled doorknob before Petra opened it with ease. Silently, they slipped inside, closing the door with an audible clang. Within the storage room, she could hear a man's voice shout a muffled 'hey!'. Mason let out a hushed giggle, and Petra couldn't help but join her. It reminded her of her early days, playing pranks on her superiors, sneaking out into the night with other trainees to raid the mess hall.

But then she glanced down, and found that Mason was still holding her wrist.

Mason cleared her throat, running the same hand through her hair and moving it over one shoulder.

"We should head back. Before..you know." she said, flicking her head to the door.

"Right." Petra nodded.

Following after her, Petra felt her face get just a little bit warmer.


	4. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really much to say other than the chapters are definitely gonna get a bit longer as we go along; and if u have any questions or just wanna talk then my tumblr is @ takenbytheweeds

The mess hall was nearly full, and the sound of banter and laughter from all parties dominated everything else. But it hadn't reached Connie's ears.

She stared down at the metal tray meagerly filled with watery scrambled eggs, two strips of bacon and an orange slice. Picking at the eggs with a fork, she propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. She couldn't stop the carousel of thoughts running in circles at the forefront of her mind no matter how hard she tried.

In the earliest hours of the morning, she had woken up with those same cold sweats she felt just before the trip, dreamed that same dream. She had initially written away its first instance as nothing but anxiety. What else could it have been? But two nights in a row was a night too many. Despite the uneasiness it brought her, she couldn't help but want to laugh. It was only herself, yet again, in that same endless void, trapped and free all at once. But something about it had changed. She felt tethered, like a balloon being dragged by a string toward a fate she didn't know. Connie was floating - for how long, she wasn't sure - until something stopped her. If it was even possible to be stopped in whatever place she had found herself in. It was like she had reached an invisible wall, a barrier that repelled her yet drew her in like two opposing magnets. But that wasn't what caused a sudden spike of fear in her heart. Beyond the barrier was an intangible presence, but at the same time all too perceivable. It was something hostile, something that wanted her to leave before she even got there, wherever _there_ was.

But awake, and staring out the window toward the blue sky that faded into ominous gray clouds, she had a feeling she knew where it was.

Her brows furrowed, mouth twisting to the side as she removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Foreboding dreams aside, she had woken up _much_ too early. It was still dark out, and it had been that way for what felt like hours until finally the sun began to peek behind its cover of pink and orange clouds. That was when the Athena's intercom crackled with a static-laced voice announcing the start of a new day. The last day before the real departure.

Connie had been the first out of the dorms, and the first to snatch a seat at the table where she had been sitting alone for a good ten minutes or so.

Until San and Brooks came walking from behind her and to the other side with their trays in hand.

"You okay, Cooper?" Brooks asked.

Connie flinched out of her thoughts, eyes snapping to the people that now sat in front of her. She nodded.

"Sorry, you just..never mind."

"Yeah," she let out a tired huff of a laugh as she put her glasses back on. "I know. Didn't get a good sleep last night, that's all."

As the two began digging into their breakfasts, Connie's eyes wandered from her tray, past their shoulders and at the sky outside.

"I can't believe it's only one day away now. It feels like only yesterday when we were still speculating its existence." San mused.

"At least _someone's_ excited." Brooks responded. "None of these folks really look like they wanna be here."

He scooped up a spoonful of bland-looking grits before pausing for a second, putting the spoon down and opting for the stale french toast on the side.

"To be fair," San said, cutting what looked more like an ashy cigar than a grilled sausage in half. "Most of them aren't here for the same reasons we are."

"True."

"To think, tomorrow there's a chance we'll see entirely new fauna." Connie could almost see the stars in her eyes.

Brooks, took a swig of his orange juice. "Darwin, eat your heart out."

"If we find any finches remind me to name one after you." she said with an amused smile.

Connie's gaze wandered back down to the tray. The food had surely gone cold, but she took the fork back in hand, turning over the unreasonably greasy bacon in its place. She stopped suddenly when a muffled voice rang into her ears.

"Sorry?"

"I said if you were looking forward to it. You know, tomorrow." San said patiently. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Connie replied in the most convincing tone she could muster. "Just not really hungry I guess."

"So how about it?" Brooks prodded.

"Hm.." she put her fork down, taking the orange slice in hand and peeling away a sliver. "Can't say I'm expecting much, to be honest."

"Why's that?" Brooks asked.

She shrugged. "It's not that indigenous groups are uncommon, but this island isn't exactly Papua New Guinea. I'm not sure how it was before, but now? If the readings are right, the current conditions might be too extreme."

She set the orange slice back down on the still-full tray. "At most, I'm expecting wrecks, washed up junk from the mainland. _Maybe_ artifacts, architecture and all that."

Brooks nodded in skeptical agreement. "Randa did mention rumors of a travelling movie crew disappearing back in '33. Their ship's route? Passed straight through here."

Connie wasn't normally one to be easily spooked, but something about that sent a chill running down her spine. She took a small bite out of the scrambled eggs.

They were cold.

_____

The sun was high in the sky, its rays beaming down on the helipad with a fierce intensity.

Petra sat on a folding chair, tapping her feet along to the song that played on Slivko's record player. The ship's crew scurried about, preparing for tomorrow morning's departure, while soldiers strolled throughout the deck as if they were on a cruise. Everyone seemed to be taking in the early afternoon sun like it was the last day of summer. Even that tracker, Conrad, was out and about. Though he had confined himself to one of the crow's nests, watching over everyone else like a hawk. Mason eventually made her way out onto the deck too, snapping photos of the scenes that played out before her. Reles giving Cole an impromptu haircut, Slivko sneaking up behind three flexing soldiers at the last minute, Mills and the others goofing around shirtless and carefree like a bunch of high school boys.

Mason knelt down, closing one eye as she peered through the viewfinder, taking a photo of Petra and Mills in the middle of a push-up battle. Almost as soon as she let the camera hang from her neck, Mills collapsed on the floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. Petra stood back up, winded but victorious.

Mills rested his elbow against the chair where Chapman sat to himself, his brow furrowed as he tapped a pencil against the worn-out journal that lay on his lap.

"Whatcha writing there, Chap?" Mills asked.

"Letter to my boy." he answered.

Mills hummed, leaning over his shoulder to let his eyes scan the words on paper. "Dear Billy," he started.

"I know I said I'd be home by your birthday, but I lied straight to your face."

Chapman turned toward the man with a bemused look.

"I'm a terrible dad. I hope this makes up for it." Mills finished.

Chapman smiled with a snicker. "That's too short."

_____

Petra squinted as she gazed out at the water around her. Its surface sparkled with the last rays of sunlight, and despite the impending journey, she felt almost completely at ease. Leaning her head back against the chair, she closed her eyes, feeling the sun warm her skin and the briny sea breeze run through her ponytail. Then she heard a click, and she opened one eye. It was Mason, once again crouching low with her camera obscuring half of her face, one eye screwed shut as the other hid behind the viewfinder.

"That going on the cover of Life?"

"_Ha_, you wish." she teased, fiddling with the camera's inner workings as she swapped the cartridge for a new one.

"You can sit down, you know. Won't hurt to relax a little before..." Petra turned to the side, staring at the approaching storm clouds that were mere hours away.

"I'll be fine. I'm just here to record, remember?" she replied, turning her camera over in her hand with a wistful smile. "It's how I relax, anyway."

Petra searched her face for something more, but before she had the chance to respond, Mason slipped her hand under a wooden crate, pulling it up beside the folding chair. "But I guess one minute wouldn't hurt."

In that moment, the song on the record player switched to something slower, softer than the rock tracks that had been playing all that afternoon. Petra could hear Chapman humming along to its tune. But then the rhythm began to pick up, and by the time the next verse started the soldiers gathered around each other had begun singing and clapping. It was awfully off-key, but Petra grinned as she also began to hum along, occasionally singing along with the lyrics she remembered.

Mills stood up from his seat as he danced over to where Cole sat, clapping his hands on the back of his chair as he sang along to the verse that played.

"_Can you teach me how to dance reaaal slooow?_" he sang in an off tone.

Cole shook his head with a subdued grin as he playfully shoved him away.

The singing continued, words slurring together as the men sang over each other with big grins on their faces. And then the chorus sounded once again. Petra turned to Mason, seeing that she had whipped out her camera, taking a photo of the soldiers in that candid moment.

"_This'll be the day that I die,_" they all sang at once.

But the song was interrupted by a sudden boom of thunder, it's reverberation shocking Petra enough that she gripped the arms of the folding chair, nails digging into the plastic. Mason lowered her camera. Everyone turned away from each other to look at the source, the swirling tempest surrounding the island crackling with distant lightning like a whip. Challenging all that dared to come close. The air suddenly felt very cold.

The record player's song continued blaring away, though the majority of them had since stopped listening.

"_This'll be the day that I die.._"


	5. Icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are gettin real

The air was thick and balmy. She had only just walked out onto the helipad, and already the cold stormy gusts mixing with the warm ocean breeze gathered along Connie's brow in the form of a thin sheen of sweat.

It was early in the morning, and the South Pacific sunrise had just broken into a hazy blue sky. Save for the wall of rain and clouds that lay just a mere 50 miles ahead. The Athena had gotten lucky, her route taking them almost directly to a rare low-pressure pocket that broke through the tempest that shrouded Skull Island from the world.

Connie gathered her hair in one hand, tying it away in a short pony tail as she threw the straps of her bag over her shoulders, following after Randa and the others. She yawned. Sleep had evaded her that entire night, tossing and turning as soon as she could find a position comfortable enough. The constant thunder in the distance hadn't helped in the slightest.

And it continued to boom as each helicopter was being loaded with supplies, from extra fuel to scientific instruments. And weapons.

"We _did_ ask to arm those helicopters. Shouldn't they know why?" Brooks asked, turning to Randa.

"Why?" he lightheartedly replied. "And raise an alarm? Purely a precaution, Brooks." he reassured, patting him on the shoulder as he boarded a helicopter.

Brooks stood there, slightly bewildered. "Right.."

Connie hung at the back of the group of scientists, eyes wandering to the boxes of ammunition being hefted onto one of the helicopters. She had only been a part of Monarch for around 4 years, having been recruited by Brooks after an anthropology seminar during the last dregs of her college days. She hadn't known what to expect at first, until they finally disclosed the organization's _real_ mission to her nearly half a year after joining. Connie had to admit, she didn't buy into it, not as much as Randa or Brooks, or even San. But the fringe group was willing to back her travels when they could, and that had been enough for her. But now, just minutes before take-off, she wasn't so sure anymore. Connie bit the inside of her cheek.

"We aren't gonna need those, right?" she asked.

"Wish I could say." San replied.

"_Two mikes to launch,_"a voice spoke over the intercom. "_Troops and civilians, board assigned aircraft. I repeat, two mikes till launch._"

"Well," Brooks said. "See you on the other side, Coop."

"It'll be fine." San reassured, squeezing Connie's shoulder for a brief moment.

She paused, splitting away from the two as they continued walking ahead of her to board their own helicopter, along with one of Landsat's men - Woodward. _This was it_, she thought as she jogged after Randa, seeing him lay his suitcase flat on the floor of their shared craft. She placed her bag on the seat beside him, hauling herself onto the platform. Pushing up the glasses that had begun to slip off of her face, she buckled herself in.

"What's the old man getting us into?" she heard one of the pilots mutter at the front.

"Nothin' he wouldn't do himself." the one sitting beside him replied calmly.

Maybe she _was_ blowing this out of proportion. This wasn't some school trip, this was her first hands-on Monarch mission, and she always had a burst of nerves before a big event. She settled back into her seat, fiddling with her sleeves as she stared out at the purple and red lightning that bolted down from the sky and onto the surface of the ocean.

"_One mike 30. Repeat, one mike 30 to launch._" the voice on the intercom sounded again.

Petra tread over one of the many puddles left by the sprinkles of rain that occasionally bombarded the ship, as though the sky itself was teasing at what was surely to come.

She absentmindedly tapped her fingers along the handle of her case as she made her way to one of the helicopters. She had packed enough medical supplies to last three days, but now that the day had finally come, she was beginning to regret not carrying more. _It was only a simple mapping missio_n, she kept reassuring herself. With Packard and his men, she felt just a little safer. But be it the storm or the fact it was a place untouched by mankind, something told her the bout of rain would be the least of her problems.

She hopped into the craft, strapping herself in. Sitting across from her was the tracker, as silent and stone-faced as ever. He didn't regard her when she placed her case on the floor, or when Mason stepped up to the side. She shooed him, looking at the man expectantly. Without a word he moved his bag to another seat, not breaking eye contact. But Mason wasn't impressed, turning to Petra and rolling her eyes with a smile she didn't even try to hide. She returned the exasperated look. Mason sat down next to her, giving her camera a once-over as she took one last photo of the helicopters preparing to leave, with the storm looming in the background.

As each pilot checked off the craft's controls, the marshallers in their red jumpsuits stood on the helipad, waving their beacons in the air. The blades atop the craft began to whir. Then, Packard's voice broke through each helicopter's radio.

"This is Fox Leader to Fox Group." he began. "It is time, once again, for the griffin and ant show. As usual, remember, hooold on to your butts!" he drawled.

"_Attention, pilots. You are cleared for takeoff._" the intercom confirmed.

Everyone in the crafts reached for the padded headphones that hung above each seat. Connie took in a deep breath. Petra gripped the handle of her case.

One by one, all ten helicopters lifted away from the platform.

"Combat formation, keep visual," Packard's voice spoke through the radios. "Fox Five, let me know when you close."

Connie's craft lifted slightly into the air, and she had to restrain herself from looking down.

"Fox Five is in the slot." one of the pilots stated.

"Roger that." he said. "Fox team, form up on me. Keep it together!" Packard continued as they all gathered in formation like a flock of birds.

Petra heard a series of distinctive clicks, and saw that Mason's camera was still focused directly onto the swirling wall of clouds. Somewhere in its center was the glow of continuously striking lightning bolts. The sea beneath it churned from the hail of rain that had surely been pelting it for centuries.

"Let's do this!" Packard exclaimed.

The helicopters pushed forward, and even at a fair distance Connie could feel the turbulence shake its entire frame. The strands of hair that couldn't be tied back whipped around her face. She outstretched an arm, reaching for one of the handles on the helicopter's ceiling. Randa removed the hat from his head and gripped it tightly in his lap.

"Maintain course." the colonel reassured. "Nothing we haven't done before."

"Dear Billy," she heard one of the Pilots say to no one in particular. "You ever look into a hurricane and decide 'Maybe I should fly straight through it'? Because that's what's about to happen."

The closer they got to the never ending storm, the more the helicopter shook, harsh winds whistling through their open frames and directly into Petra's ears. Her jaw tightened when the sound of thunder clapping only a mile or two away sounded much closer than the others. Too close for her comfort.

That was when they passed through a tunnel of wind, the entire helicopter shuddering roughly, its metal hull groaning from the sudden change in air pressure. Mason's grip on her camera loosened for a moment, and had she not had its strap slung around her neck it surely would have fallen into the ocean below. For once, she willingly let it go, her hands flying to grip the handles at the top of the helicopter. With one hand still wrapped around her equipment case, Petra reached for one of the straps hanging off the side of the seat, wrapping it around her wrist as she stared down at the floor.

"Dear, Billy," Connie heard the second pilot mutter. "You might wanna hang on."

_Way ahead of you_, she thought.

But nothing could have prepared her for rush of air that slammed through the craft and into her face like a wall. Her already loosening ponytail nearly became undone as the helicopter shook from side to side. Connie screwed her eyes shut as she gripped the handle above her with both hands. The helicopter's thin metal walls creaked and groaned even more than before, and she could have swore she heard one of the windows crack from the pressure.

Maybe _this_ is what the presence was in her dream, the overpowering need to turn back and leave the expedition for someone far braver - or far dumber - than herself. The barrier made manifest in the form of an impenetrable fortress of storm clouds.

Almost as if to prove her point, rain pelted them from all sides, sharply bouncing off the outer walls of the helicopter and within the seats. Connie wanted to wipe aside the curls that clung to her face, but the thought of letting go of the handles for even a fraction of a second was the farthest thing from her mind.

Flashes of red and purple lightning struck all around them, as if the storm itself was trying to zap them out of the sky like incessant flies. Petra grit her teeth, her grip on both the case and the handle growing stronger by the second. As they continued to plow forward through the dark bruise-colored clouds, the craft's controls started to flash, a harsh beeping coming from what felt like everyone's helicopter at once. The formation was beginning to fall apart as well, as each pilot weaving wildly through bolts of electricity and rain clouds. The one in which Petra found herself sitting within swerved sharply, narrowly dodging a thin streak of red lightning. She cursed, feeling her body lurch to the side.

"Fox Leader to Fox Group," Packard spoke again, though still keeping his cool, his voice sounded slightly tenser than before. "Switch to inertial navigation."

As each pilot flipped the corresponding switches on their controls, Packard continued on. "And remember the story of Icarus, whose father gave him wings made of wax, and warned him not to fly too close to the sun."

But then she felt something grip her wrist, and briefly glancing down she found Mason's hand coiled around it, though the woman herself was looking out of the helicopter, teeth clenched together as her arm strained to keep their hold on the handle above her.

"But the exhilaration was too great, so he flew higher and higher,"

The beeping started again, louder than ever before.

"Until the sun melted his wings, and he fell into the sea."

_Real reassuring_, Petra thought. Mason hadn't let go of her wrist.

"But the United States Army is _not_ an irresponsible father."

_Yeah right_, Connie thought.

"So they gave us wings of white-hot, cold-rolled Pennsylvania steel. _Guaranteed_ not to melt." Packard finished, his confidence back in full swing.

_How much longer is this gonna take_, Connie's mind screamed. It felt like an hour had passed since they broke through the cloud barrier. Her arms were already feeling the soreness of holding onto the handles, and for the first time since entering the tempest she opened her eyes.

As suddenly as the onslaught started, it stopped. No beeping, no thunder, no straining metal and a hail of rain. Everything became eerily quiet. Like a shroud, the clouds melted behind them as the sun, now at its peak, shone through the storm like a beacon.

If _that_ was one of the thinnest sections of the storm, she couldn't imagine what the rest of it was like. She wasn't sure if she wanted to. Connie opened one eye at a time, taking in a shaky breath as she released one hand from its grip on the handle. She had never been so glad to see sunlight in her life.

Petra let out a breath of relief as she twisted her body around, looking ahead at the break in the storm. One by one, the helicopters passed into the open air, leaving a trail of clouds behind them like wispy arms begging them to stray no further. Mason's expression relaxed as a disbelieving grin appeared on her face, her hand slowly leaving its place on Petra's wrist.

Pilots and passenger alike all chuckled with a nervous relief. But Connie gasped softly, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes were met with the sight before her.

The island.

It was an archipelago of smaller isles, inlets of sea water carving through them. And shrouded with a ghostly veil of mist was the main island, a mountain sitting at its center with a chip down the middle, almost looking like a claw jutting into the sky. Or a pair of devilish horns.

Everyone within the helicopters were taken by its presence, the gravity of seeing a place so entirely new hitting them all at once. Petra didn't have to look to know that Mason was already taking pictures of everything they passed over. The sound of Randa unclasping his suitcase caught Connie's attention for a brief moment, seeing him pull out a film camera and immediately beginning to record everything around them.

"Let's take them down, low and level." Packard commanded over the radio.

At that, the helicopters dropped one by one, lining up behind each other as they passed through a narrow channel. 

Wind whipping through her hair, Mason let out a cheer. A faint snort-laugh left Petra, shaking her head. Even she had found herself breathless, though that was partially thanks to the squall that now loomed behind them.

As they flew into an open valley, a large flock of pure white birds flew all around them, disturbed by the sound of the aircraft's blades. As they carried themselves into the air, Mason adjusted the lens on her camera, capturing the birds that filled her frame with a click.

"Beautiful.." she whispered.

Petra smiled.

That was when someone behind them flicked on their speakers at full volume, a thundering rock song booming through the valley.

"Fox Leader to Fox Group," Packard spoke over the song. "Split up, survey your zones. Fox Seven, put Landsat on deck. Everyone else, stay with the team leader."

The helicopters began to split off, three of them smoothly swerving away, two landing in one of the clearings beneath, and the others continuing to follow Packard's lead. Randa was still filming, this time bringing his focus to the tiny figures that scurried across the field as they hauled dozens of pounds of equipment out of the crafts.

"Ready for seismic charges." Nieves' voice crackled through the radio.

Connie let out a breath. It was now or never.

"Fox Group, let it fly." the colonel directed.

At that moment, Connie's gaze wandered from up ahead at the rolling mountains to down below. A herd of ungulates was passing directly beneath them, and her heart nearly stopped.

The charge dropped without mercy, spiraling in the air before hitting its mark, the explosion that followed blooming upward like a yellow and orange flower. The rumble traveled through the air, and seconds later Connie felt her teeth chatter. She pressed herself against her seat.

Mason didn't look too happy as she turned to Petra with furrowed brows. She was upset, and Petra could find no reassurance to give other than a look of understanding.

Since the revelation that explosives would be involved, she had expected the inevitability of certain "casualties". She just hadn't expected them to come so soon.

One of the handheld radios within Connie's helicopter crackled to life. Brooks' voice broke through from the other side. Randa briefly glanced away from his camera to gesture to Connie to answer it. As quickly as she could, she grabbed the radio, pressing down on its button and holding it up to the man beside her.

"What're you seeing, Brooks?" Randa asked.

"Well, it's definitely looking good so far."

"The seismic response..it's _incredible_." San's voice joined in.

Then the second charge dropped, this time landing directly in the center of another group of grazing deer. Before they could all gallop away, the explosion overtook them, sending the closest hurtling through the air with the upended dirt and trees.

Connie flinched. Mason shook her head, leaning back as her camera dropped onto her lap.

"They can't control where they drop," Petra said. "Sorry."

Mason gave her an unreadable look, and she knew that she didn't care if there even was a reason.

The radio in Connie's hand sounded again.

"Hey, Randa, you're not gonna believe this." Brooks said, his voice beaming with excitement. "The bedrock? It's practically hollow."

Connie let out an incredulous laugh, looking up at Randa. He pulled away from the camera in his hand for a moment, a look of validation completely overpowering the awe that had been there.

She was hesitant to admit, but out of all of the fringe theories that came out of Monarch's greatest minds, the one she had expected to be grounded in reality the _least_ was Randa's. The possibility of a hollow Earth. And yet, here they were.

The charges continued to drop, a third, a fourth, a sixth, a seventh. The valley below was being almost completely overtaken with the charges, explosions shaking the ground and the air without discrimination. It seemed like overkill, but if they had gotten this much data from only a few so far, what else could they find?

_I just hope they leave enough ground for me to do _my_ job_, Connie thought.

She would not get that answer, not when the helicopter one craft ahead of her was shot out of the sky.


	6. Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's monky time

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, and yet far too fast for her to register.

About a thousand thoughts raced through Connie's mind, her breath caught in her throat as her heart pounded like a hammer against her chest. She couldn't move, couldn't _breathe_ as a sudden wave of terror strangled her nerves. But she could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate, her hands trembling so hard she almost dropped the radio she had forgotten she was holding.

_What was that was that a tree who - no - _ ** _what_ ** _ threw it they're dead they have to be oh god we're next_

As the shrill ringing in her ears started to subside, that was when she saw a hand - an impossibly large hand attached to an equally impossible arm reach from the ground up into the air, swatting the helicopter meters ahead of her out of the sky like a bug. She felt a scream gather in her throat, but no matter how much she wanted to, it wouldn't release itself. Instead, her blood ran cold, paralyzing her.

Connie didn't want to look, she didn't _mean_ to. But from what she could see, the arm disappeared for a moment as the helicopter spun out of control, spiraling downward like one of the charges until finally it caught itself among the trees. Smoke and sparks flew from the wreckage, flying into the air. She brought a hand to her mouth, trying - and failing - to control her rapid breathing.

But then, as if it couldn't have gotten any worse, the remains of the aircraft was plucked from the ground, flaming debris falling from its metal carcass back into the brush. Connie turned away, folding into herself as her hands flew to her ears, her eyes slamming shut as the helicopter she sat in swerved away from whatever it was that attacked them. A deafening, thunderous roar echoed through the valley, shaking everything in the area down to their bones.

Randa set down his camera with shaking hands, mouth agape in pure shock.

"On guard, Fox Five!" Packard shouted into the radio. "Fox Eight is down! Fox four is down! Respond, Fox Three!"

"Oh my god?!" - "Does anybody know what that is?" - "Set a perimeter of 300 meters. _Do not engage_." - "Somebody talk to me, man." - "_Is that a monkey?_"

Chaotic chatter throughout the remaining aircraft filled Petra's ears - half of them preparing to fly into formation once more, the other simply repeating varying responses of confusion and fear. She twisted her body around, head peeking out of the helicopter as she tried to catch a glimpse of what the _hell_ was going on. A part of her wished she hadn't.

"Oh my _god_.." she whispered, horror lacing her words.

Mason turned around as well, but she didn't look nearly as frightened. Neither of them could comprehend what they were seeing, and for a moment Petra thought she was hallucinating, she _had_ to be. Mason's brows knit together in awe - wonder, even, as she stared at the anthropomorphic silhouette shadowed by the outline of the sun behind it.

It.

That thing was _alive_.

It was alive, and standing directly in their path. As the helicopters all converged on the creature's position, it still refused to move an inch, simply clenching one massive fist as they drew closer.

"Fox Leader to Fox Group, form a perimeter! Ready gunner positions." Packard shouted.

As the helicopters began to circle it, Petra could see the thing clear as day now. It was a gorilla - or at least some sort of ape, and if it were about the size of a building. Unlike those birds and the deer, it didn't seem intimidated by the sight of the oncoming fleet in the slightest. Whatever it was was definitely assessing them, daring the tiny flying things to come closer. It let out a low rumble as it started to turn, eyes following each helicopter that circled it with a look of anger that left even Petra feeling flighty.

"Fox Leader to Fox Group, fire. At. Will."

The beast let out a furious, earth-shaking roar.

But its call was interrupted as dozens of rounds of ammunition were unloaded faster than seconds could pass, hitting it directly. The monster seemed to cringe, bringing one arm up to shield itself like it was getting _hurt_. Whatever they seemed to do, it was definitely feeling it, but they hadn't slowed the thing down at all.

"What the hell is that?" one of Connie's pilot's shouted.

"I don't _know_!" the other responded.

Connie held on for dear life as the gunner sitting beside her continued to shoot at the animal. It recoiled after each hit, face scrunched together in either annoyance or pain or possibly both. Another bellowing shout left the creature, and like any cornered animal it retaliated in turn, sprinting toward a low-flying helicopter, jumping into the air with a raised fist.

With one powerful swing, it knocked the aircraft into the ground, slamming it into a tree where it erupted into fiery shrapnel. The monster stood taller, challenging the rest of the fleet with a low rumble, pounding its chest with both fists.

A choked yelp left Connie as her helicopter swung out of the way, trying to avoid the debris that shot upward into the sky all while still firing at the creature.

Petra cursed while Mason stared ahead at the scene that seemed to be ripped straight out of a monster movie, a look of horror gradually replacing the awe that stood there only minutes ago.

"Pull out now - _pull out!_" Conrad shouted at Slivko.

"I don't take orders from you!" he barked back.

"Kid, just _do it_!" Petra shouted insistently.

Hesitantly, Slivko pulled away, but only slightly, as the gunner continued to shoot at the monster.

"Get us the hell out of here!" Randa yelled.

Before the pilot could even register the command, the helicopter that rushed forward next to them was dragged back in the blink of an eye. The creature's hand was wrapped around its tail until the still-swinging blades connected with its arm, slashing through its moss-colored fur and into skin, a gush of blood spouting from the wound. It let go of it instantly, pausing for a moment to register the damage the blades had caused with a strange look on its face. It almost seemed confused - _offended_. Although the helicopter was now free from its grasp, it spun out of the air, a thick trail of black smoke billowing from its engines as it disappeared among the trees. It beat its chest once more.

"Fox Five, this is Fox Leader. Fox Nine is down, one klick north of river bend. Insert recovery team. Over."

Petra's jaw tightened. She was going to have her work cut out for her. _If there's anyone left_, she thought to herself.

"Fox Five is hovering." one of the pilots at the front of the craft spoke into the radio. "We got men going out the door."

Connie's helicopter stopped moving, and for the first time in what must've only been a few minutes, she could breathe. Her head was spinning, and she felt like she would pass out at any moment. Her eyes flew over everything in a wild haze, undecided on whether to focus on the floor of the helicopter, at the soldier that dove out to pull another out from one of the many wrecks, or at the creature that caused it. Any choice would've been a mistake, for as soon as the soldier had dragged the other free, a giant foot crashed down from above, crushing them in a single, horrible instant.

It had only just occurred to her that she had been crying.

As they swerved out of the way, the thing swatted at them, narrowly missing the tail end of their helicopter as they sped away as fast as possible. A low, aggravated huff came from behind them, and ground-shattering stomping that gradually sounded faster and closer. Connie dreaded turning around, but even then she knew that the thing had started running after them.

But as soon as she was sure that they were the next to be punched out of the sky, one of the few remaining helicopters turned around, shooting at it with all it had. The colonel had bought them enough time to pass them, gaining height as the monster behind them hung back.

That did little to stop it.

Crouching low, it jumped above the aircraft with ease, sending the helicopter barreling straight into the one previously behind Connie's. As they crashed into each other, debris flying from both sides, the creature landed on the ground with a massive thud, sending clouds of dirt into the air.

Petra's had somehow managed to stay away from the slaughter, but as they passed over the remains of Packard's helicopter, she doubted their luck would protect them for longer.

It was then that the giant ape had stomped toward the clearing where the scientists had made base, slamming its fists into the ground. As people scrambled for cover, it raked its hand across the ground, razing pounds of dirt and equipment as though it were nothing.

"Hang on!" Slivko shouted as he dodged the flying debris.

Conrad nearly jumped out of his seat. "_Watch out!_" he called, pointing to something hurtling toward the front window.

Mason let out a shocked cry, Petra bracing for the impact. But it was already much too late, the soldier's body slamming into them with enough force to crack the window. They could do nothing but watch as he slid upward into the blades. There was a shrill rattling sound before they jammed, sparks flying from the machinery as it struggled to propel itself. Petra coughed as smoke filled the air, a bright red light flashing in tune with the beeping within the helicopter as she began to feel it spiral downward.

"Prepare to cr -!" Slivko started, his voice cut off as they dropped in the center of a group of trees.

For a moment, Petra felt as though she were floating, her breath caught somewhere in her throat like a ton of rocks. The last thing she heard was a wrathful roar, and then everything around her went dark.

"Fox Leader is down!" one of the pilots in Connie's helicopter shouted, though no one was there to respond. "Fox Five inbound for pickup, we have him in sight!"

_We have to turn around_, Connie wanted to yell at the pilots. She wanted nothing more than to turn the craft around and fly away as far as possible, storm be damned.

"Hold tight, colonel, we're on our way." he continued as they swung back around.

Connie could barely see the downed aircraft among the smoke and trees but as she saw what looked like the colonel dragging himself out of the wreckage, the creature grabbed what remained, flinging one of the trapped passengers out with it.

She saw its eyes scan the air, looking up at the few remaining helicopters. For the briefest of seconds, she could have sworn it looked directly at her.

But she wouldn't have the time to speculate when the creature hurled the downed helicopter at her, colliding directly into the side where she sat. The seat buckle dug into her side as she was forcefully tugged to the side from the impact. She wanted to scream, but could only manage a choked gasp as she struggled to keep her glasses from falling off of her face.

She couldn't tell where she had landed, or how she found herself nearly hanging out of the smoking helicopter, but she felt a pair of arms drag her from the rapidly warming wreckage. Every bone and muscle in her body ached, and breathing had become increasingly difficult as she coughed through the haze. Everything was quiet and loud all at once, her ears ringing and head pounding as she felt a warm substance trickle down her forehead. She placed her hand against the spot that hurt the most, wincing when she felt a sharp sting. Even through her now-cracked glasses she saw her hand stained with blood.

Whoever dragged her free from the crash set her down, hidden among a cover of tree and bushes. She tried to speak, but found that all that could come out were slurred noises, all combining into one long whimper.

Looking up beyond the treeline, the creature rose to its full height, fire and smoke billowing upward like hellfire. Its fiery, amber eyes seemed to burn with rage as it looked down at the chaos it helped wrought, and once again Connie found herself under its scrutinizing gaze.

It was then that something finally clicked with her. It had never been the storm.

This time, Connie did scream.


	7. Splintered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not too explicit but warning for some mild gore at the beginning

If she didn't know any better, Petra would've been convinced she was dying.

Everything was dark, and her head felt like it wanted to explode. But she could feel an ache spreading deep into her bones, and a sharp pain that pulsed with every breath she took. And then there were the voices.

They sounded so close yet so far away. And there was something about them that felt so familiar. And worried. She couldn't make out the words exactly, it was like she was hearing someone speak in another room. And then another voice would join in, and then another. It was like they were arguing with each other. Realizing that it wasn't some otherworldly being calling her over to the other side, Petra willed herself awake, though that was easier said than done.

Her eyelids felt like they had been stapled shut, and opening them had been a feat all on its own. But the voice had become much clearer, and she even felt someone's hands gripping her shoulders. Finally, the darkness had faded into something lighter, though that light had been obscured by a figure. Petra squinted.

"..Mason?" she groaned, trying to sit herself upright only to freeze, sucking air through her teeth when she felt a searing pain shoot up her spine, quickly sending her back to the ground.

"_Shit,_" she hissed, her vision finally clearing enough to see that the hands coaxing her back down to the ground belonged to the tracker - Conrad - and that Mason was standing off to the side, dazed and biting at her nails.

And that a hole had been torn straight through her shirt, complete with a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded in her side.

"_Easy_," he said, turning around and gesturing to Slivko, who looked like he was rifling through something.

He shuffled closer, a look of frustration contorting his features as he hurriedly placed whatever he had been looking at beside her - Petra's medical supplies. She propped herself up on her elbows as much as she could, instinctively reaching for the case. Conrad's hand became firm against her shoulder, trying to push her arm back down.

"What're you - gimme that -" her words slurred together as it all came rushing back to her.

Slivko tugged the case away from her grasp. "_Whoa_, I don't think that's a good idea."

Petra paused, arm still outstretched. She laughed, weakly at first before her shoulders began to shake.

"You're kidding me...right? You do know I'm the medic here?"

"Yes, a barely conscious one." Conrad argued.

"Do I _look_ unconscious to you?" she snapped.

Mason shot a look between them, and Petra relented, albeit unwilling.

"Fine. Do any of you know how to suture a wound?" she asked, tearing off an already shredded scrap of her undershirt.

None of them said a word, but just as Conrad began to open his mouth, Petra stopped him.

"_Properly_?"

The tracker drew himself back into the silence that hung around them.

"Didn't think so." she muttered, weakly tugging the case away from Slivko's grasp.

It only took her a few seconds to find the small stitch kit.

Mason's brows bunched together in worry. It looked like she wanted to say something, but just when Petra thought she was about to open her mouth, she pulled herself away.

Petra sighed, glancing down at the piece of metal that jutted out of her stomach. She steeled herself, hands hovering over it as though her hands would fall off if she so much as poked it. Her eyes screwed shut for a moment, taking a deep breath. This was all so much easier said than done.

As her hands wrapped around the metal, she cringed. Even the slightest movement made her head spin, but she had to keep her focus. There wasn't any time to waste. Counting to three in her head, she pulled.

It slid out with surprising ease, but the pain that flooded her body afterward made her guts do a flip. Petra bit back a scream, sharply taking in a breath as she tossed the shard into the bushes that surrounded them. Blood oozed from the gash, and she knew at that moment a timer now hung over her head.

"O-Oh god," Slivko muttered.

Immediately, she snapped her fingers at Conrad, pointing at the canteen that was slung around his shoulders. He handed it to her without a word, crossing his arms as she tugged up her shirt to pour its lukewarm water over the wound. Blood continued to seep from its edges, but Petra didn't care as she looped a thread through the hooked needle in her shaking hand. Taking a deep breath, she got to work.

Slivko turned away, trying desperately to hold back his own nausea. Conrad stood up, walking a short distance away. Mason was the only one to stay kneeling not too far away.

By some miracle, the shrapnel had barely missed any important organs, but she couldn't count her blessings just yet. It was hard to keep her breathing steady, and even harder to keep her hands from trembling. But as soon as she finished the first stitch, the rest kept coming, falling into an adrenaline-fueled haze. It had always been easy for her to fall into patterns after they came. It was just part of the job. Even the needle that continuously plunged in and out of her skin had become nothing but a pinch.

That didn't stop it from feeling like torture.

She dropped the needle back in her kit, tossing it back into her case. Her hands were shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and her entire abdomen had gone numb from the punctures, but the wound had finally stopped bleeding.

"Can you," she rasped, mouth feeling unbearably dry. "Can you get those for me?"

She pointed to the bandages and gauze that lay folded within the case. Mason seemed to snap out of a daze, suddenly diving for the supplies.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, hold on."

Gathering what strength she had, Petra wrapped the gauze around her waist, fastening it with a bandage. It was a rush job - and it definitely looked the part - but now all she could do was hope it would hold until the three days passed. She lay her head back down on the ground, letting out a strained breath of relief.

"Are you..done?" Slivko asked, hesitantly turning back around.

Petra gave him a jittery thumbs up, trying to push herself off the ground before collapsing on her knees. Mason helped her up, Slivko rushing over to help as they both guided her to the downed aircraft that stood almost completely horizontal against a tree. She leaned against the metal hull, wincing at even the slightest pressure.

She rested her head against the warm metal, closing her eyes for a moment before staring up at the tree canopy.

Birds and about a dozen other creatures she didn't know the names of filled the air with their cries. Even the branches and leaves rattled in the humid air, adding to the white noise. It reminded her of her first time out in the field.

Mason sat down next to her, staring out into space while her fingers occupied themselves with adjusting and readjusting the lens on her camera.

"You good, Weaver?" Petra asked softly, noticing the still-red scrapes that marred her face.

It took the woman one second longer than normal to respond.   
"Huh? Oh - right, yeah. I'm.." she sighed tiredly. "I'm about as good as I can get, I guess."

Petra didn't respond. She had seen that same look before, the same absence in the eyes in the patients she's had to treat over the years. She looked down, picking up a leaf and rolling it between her fingers.

"We're gonna be okay." she said. "At least we got stuck with the boy scout."

It hurt to talk for long, but Mason smiled just slightly at that, and Petra found that maybe it was worth it. But speaking of, Conrad still hadn't come back from wherever he had wandered off to, and Slivko was now busying himself with a portable radio he had found somehow intact among the wreckage.

"Anything?" Mason asked. The boy shook his head.

Suddenly, somewhere among the bushes, there was a sound. Leaves were being brushed aside, interrupting the bird calls that had been incessantly chiming since she had come to. Slivko stopped dead in his tracks, placing the radio on the ground as slowly and quietly as he could while reaching for his gun. Petra and Mason turned their heads around, shrinking against the wreckage as their eyes searched for any sign of life.

"Who's there?" Slivko called out with a crack in his voice. Everyone stood waiting for any kind of response with bated breath.

The boy readied the gun with a click, already aiming it high.

Finally, there was a voice.

"Don't shoot!" Nieves said nervously, emerging out of from the trees with Brooks and San following close behind.

Slivko let out a breath of relief, setting his gun down and picking the radio back up. Petra searched behind the trio, looking - hoping - for any more survivors.

"You the only ones?" she asked.

Brooks nodded. "So far. We haven't been able to contact anyone."

A look of disappointment washed over Slivko's face before returning to speaking into the radio.

"Calling all units, is anybody airborne?" Slivko paced back and forth, holding the radio against his ear with its bulky case tucked under one arm.

Glancing at the cracked watch on her wrist, the boy had been at it for at least twenty minutes now, and in that span of time they had gotten nothing but garbled static.

"I repeat, is _anybody_ airborne?" his voice was getting increasingly more panicked.

"Give it a break," Petra said, looking at the vines and shrubbery that seemed to curl around her foot. "If there was anyone in range they would've picked up by now."

"Even if we were in range I wouldn't expect anything. Not now, at least." Conrad said, emerging from behind low-hanging tree branches. His eyes scanned over the sudden influx of company that had arrived.

"They're all down..every one of them." A pair of binoculars hung limply in his hand. "My best guess is we're scattered over a four to five mile radius."

Slivko lowered the radio before shutting it off completely.

"It looks like we're on the south side of the island." he continued, pointing to his right. "But there's a river a couple of klicks from here. If we stick to its banks, we'll make it to the exfil site on the north shore."

"And then what? All our choppers are down." Nieves spoke abruptly.

Conrad walked up to him, staring him down. "We'll find a way to signal the ship. They'll send a search party. We just have to make it by the exit window."

Nieves backed down, sighing in defeat. "I should be sitting at a desk."

"We didn't ask for this either." San muttered.

"So wait, are we just not gonna talk about this?" Slivko interrupted in a panic.

"We should head north and join anyone we find." he carried on without pause, walking over to where Petra and Mason sat against the helicopter. "Are you alright?"

"Hurts like hell." she said, looking back down at the ground. Petra paused, an almost imperceptible look of confusion. The vine that had coiled around the tip of her boot was gone.

Mason still seemed dazed, her concentration diving in and out as she let the camera she had been mindlessly messing with fall around her neck. "I don't think I know how to answer that question right now."

"I don't know what that was either." he said, turning from Mason and back to Petra. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah.." she said, casually looking around her, not wanting to cause any more alarm. "I just need -!"

She gasped, eyes flying wide as she scooted herself as far back against the wreckage as she could. Not even a second later, the vine that had stealthily wrapped itself around Conrad's ankle yanked backward with a sudden jerk, knocking him off of his feet. Mason flinched away, yelping in surprise.

Everyone in the makeshift camp froze as the vine around his leg revealed itself to be a snake, only it was as thick as a tree trunk, and almost twice as long. It couldn't have been more than forty feet, but even then most of its body was coiled and hidden behind the greenery that surrounded them. It was even harder to tell where the plants ended and where the snake began, the patterns on its body blending in almost perfectly with the environment. It was almost like it was made out of leaves.

The snake opened its jaws, letting out a menacing hiss.

Conrad grunted as he struggled to get the hunting knife out of his pocket. But just as he had the handle in his grasp, the snake continued to constrict itself around his body, snapping his arm square against his side.

With every second that passed, his body was rapidly being encompassed by the snake's, and his voice had all but died out.

Everyone had jumped out of the way, Mason and the Monarch scientists hiding behind the wreckage and the Landsat worker nearly sprinting back into the jungle from where he came. Slivko was motionless, paralyzed with fear as he stared at the snake with eyes wide and mouth agape. Before anyone had the chance to react, Petra dove for the gun that sat propped up by the stack of supplies that had survived the crash, gritting her teeth as she knelt down on one leg. Something in her side stung with pain, but she couldn't think about that. Not right now. Propping the gun against her shoulder, she pulled the trigger, directly hitting the snake at least three times only for it to have no effect. She cursed to herself, taking in a breath and shifting her aim, waiting for the right moment.

Finally, the snake seemed to notice its wounds, and its head appeared from behind its coils. Flaring its unhinged jaws directly at her with an angry hiss, Petra took the shot.

With a bang, the snake's head snapped back, and with a choked whimper the creature collapsed in on itself, writhing on the ground for a few strangled seconds before becoming eerily still.

There was no movement beneath it.

"Conrad?" Mason called, gingerly stepping closer to the snake's lifeless body.

Still, there was no response. But just as she was about to lift one of the many coils that lay on the ground, an arm shot out from the center of the pile. She rushed towards it, pulling up the man from under the snake. Looking a little blue, Conrad took in heaving breaths, placing the knife that was still clutched in his hand back in his pocket. He gave her a nod of thanks, dusting off the dirt from his pants as though nothing had happened.

Petra knelt, brows knitting together as she pushed herself up against the gun's stock. She clutched her side, feeling a throbbing pain coming from beneath the bandage. Discreetly lifting her shirt, a small spot of blood had begun to seep through the gauze. _Dammit_.

"Are _you_ alright?" she asked, hiding her injury.

"Just fine, thank you." he said with just a hint of resentment, stepping away from the snake.

Everyone was more than a little uneasy, especially now with the body laying only a few feet away from their makeshift camp. The only one that hadn't seemed too bothered was San, as she cautiously approached the carcass with a morbid curiosity in her eyes.

"I've never seen anything like this..not even in the fossil record." She knelt down, carefully laying a hand on the creature's cooling scales. "There hasn't been a snake known to grow this big, I didn't even know they _could_."

"What the hell is this place.." Brooks muttered to himself.

Mason snapped a photo.

"We can't stay here," Conrad said, moving away from the wreckage they had gathered around. "If we don't keep moving we'll just be open targets."

"Well, no shit, Sherlock." Petra said as she struggled to get on her feet. Mason reached down to help her up.

"All that money they paid you?" Mason remarked, sounding a little out of breath. "I hope you're worth it."

As they began their hike, Petra pushed the gun into Slivko's chest, nearly making him drop the radio. Brooks, San, and Nieves followed.

"We're really not gonna talk about it?" Slivko said, fumbling with both the gun and the radio in his arms before gripping both tightly. "You know this is _not_ normal, right? Stuff like that doesn't just happen!"

"Keep up, kid!" Petra called after him, already a fair distance away.

With no one else paying him any mind, the boy groaned in defeat, following after the group as they disappeared into the green abyss.

_____

Connie watched with a passive gaze at the mosquito that landed on the palm of her hand, its antennae wriggling in the air before plunging its proboscis into her skin.

She turned her hand over, watching how its wings shivered with the slightest breeze, its spindly limbs readjusting their grip. She swatted it away, wiping the splattered bug guts on the jacket that was draped over her shoulders.

The air still hung with the stench of fuel and smoke, though the fires had already miraculously burned themselves out - or they were put out by..something, though Connie doubted that possibility. At the very least they had made it out relatively unscathed, and accompanied by a handful of other survivors they had managed to put some distance between the forest and themselves, eventually reaching a marshy valley. None of them had decided what the next course of action should be, so instead they stayed put, busying themselves with gathering what supplies that had made it through the crash. The soldiers had all tried calling the colonel or any other possible survivors on the one radio they had managed to salvage, but all they had gotten was static. And what they _did_ find cut in and out at too quick a pace to hear what was being said.

So she sat on the grass near the bank of the slow-moving river that carved through the valley, plucking blades of grass and letting them fall back to the ground as she zoned in and out of her thoughts. Randa sat not too far away from her, scribbling mindlessly into the dirt with a stick.

There was too much to think about, and she couldn't find the words or the will to talk about it, but keeping it all within the confines of her mind was torture. But no matter what she was thinking about, it would always loop back around to the creature. The thing from her dream.

Could she even call it a dream? A premonition, an _omen_?

She wanted to laugh. Connie was, by no means, a superstitious person. She wouldn't think twice about a cracked mirror, and if you told her you saw the Loch Ness Monster she would scoff (though, not to your face). If it weren't for student debt, she never would've given Monarch the time of day. _But this is exactly what they were all about, weren't they_, she thought grimly. _Should've put that in the fine print_.

Wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees, she stared into the water, at its lazy currents that were occasionally broken by some unseen animal within it. There was no way that ape thing could've told her - _just her_ \- to stay away from the island. It defied all logic, all science. What was even worse, to her, was the fact that no one would believe her even if she tried to explain it. Except for, maybe, one.

Not too far away, she heard the sound of a tin can being popped open.

"Cole, what's wrong with you?" one of the pilots, she believed his name was Mills, yelled. "How you even got an appetite right now?"

The other man that sat on a torn piece of helicopter, shrugged. "Eating's for the living."

Connie felt her stomach rumble, but the thought of eating anything was the farthest thing from her mind.

"We just got taken down by a monkey the size of a _building!_" Mills exclaimed.

"Yeah," Cole set the can down for a moment. "That was an unconventional encounter."

"Is that really all your brain telling itself right now?"

"There's no tactical precedence, we did the best we could in the situation." Cole finished simply, tossing the now empty can to the side.

She looked down at her reflection that distorted within the murky water, taking in a deep breath.

"Randa?" He looked up without saying a word. "Can I, uh..can I talk to you?"

"Something the matter, Coop?"

She stood up, tying the jacket around her waist as she walked closer before sitting on the grass next to the crate he sat on.

"There's something I should've told you before we left. About the mission."

Just then, a voice carried into the valley from a fair distance away. Connie squinted, the crack in one lens of her glasses slightly distorting the image of the two, small figures standing atop a hill. It was the colonel.

"I think that'll have to wait."

Mills waved them down, and it took the pair a few short minutes to make their way down to the river bank. Packard didn't seem to have a scratch on him, but his fellow soldier was in much worse shape, one eye almost swollen shut with a thick trail of dried blood running down his nose, holding his side as he trailed behind the colonel.

"Thank god you guys are okay." Packard said as they each exchanged relieved hugs.

"How many left?" he asked, pulling the three men into a huddle.

"Seven survivors..seven confirmed KIA - Galleta, Saraf, and Hodges. Slivko and the rest are unknown." Mills held up a bundle of dog tags.

Packard gingerly took them, looking down at the lost lives in his hand before closing his fist around the chains, clearly holding in the anger and grief that was quickly simmering.

"Where's Randa." he asked coldly.

Mills nodded over to where Connie and Randa sat in the grass. She stiffened, turning to look at the man behind her. He had a serious look in his eyes, slowly twirling the stick in his hands as he stared dead ahead at the soldier that stomped toward them.

"How ya'll doing?" he asked casually, though Connie could hear the barely restrained emotion behind his voice.

"I-I, uh -"

"Fine, thank you." Randa replied.

"Good." he said, sitting between them. "Glad to hear it, I was worried about you."

Packard pulled a pistol out of the holster at his side, pointing it at Randa.

Connie shot up from her seat, splaying her hands out in front of her as she stood between them.

"Hold on, _please_, I swear, we didn't -"

"I wouldn't speak unless spoken to, if I were you." he snapped, flicking the gun at her before going back to Randa.

Connie's brows furrowed, pushing her glasses up to rub her eye as she backed off.

"You are going to tell me everything I don't know, or I'm gonna blow your head off." Packard spoke slowly.

Randa glared at him, for a long moment. "Monsters exist."

"No shit."

"Nobody believed me. Yesterday, I was a crackpot. But today?"

Connie winced, gripping the sleeve of her jacket as her eyes bore into the ground.

"So this was never about geology. You dropped those charges to flush something out." the colonel's eyes switched between them. "Who are you?"

"You heard of the USS Lawton?" Randa spoke up before Connie could even think of an answer that wouldn't piss the other man off even more. "Neither did the public. Out of a thousand young men on that ship, I was the only survivor. They told my family she was sunk in battle, but I know what I saw - it had no conscious..no reasoning, just _destroy_."

Connie recalled Brooks mentioning the incident to her back when she was first recruited. She never found a reason to bring it up when the man never seemed to talk about his past in the first place. But after finding how he failed to include the fact that one of their 'monsters' had been involved, she began to understand why.

"I spent the last 30 years trying to prove the truth of what I learned that day." he continued. "This planet doesn't belong to us. Ancient species owned this earth _long_ before mankind. And if we keep our heads buried in the sand, they will take it back."

The colonel didn't seem too amused. "That's a touching story, Mr. Randa, but their blood," Packard held up the dog tags still clenched in his fist, clinking together like wind chimes. "Is on _your_ hands if you don't tell me what the fuck is going on."

"We work for Monarch." Connie cut in, trying her hardest not to break eye contact with the soldier. "W-We - Our job is to hunt for massive unidentified terrestrial organisms. Like...Like that creature we saw back th-"

"You knew that thing was out here?" he said, his tone becoming increasingly more aggravated.

"_No_, no, there was no way of knowing, all we had were theories - _myths_ \- that's all."

"I'm sorry for your men, Colonel, I truly am." Randa interrupted, tone careful and even. "But all I'm asking is to get us home. With proof. So we can send the cavalry."

Connie pointed her gaze at Randa. He didn't _really_ mean what she thought he meant...did he?

Packard stood up, locked in a death glare with Randa with the gun still trained on him. She held her breath. A single, drawn-out moment passed between them. It felt so long that for a minute she thought that, maybe, he was actually going to shoot them both. Until, slowly, the colonel tucked the pistol back into its holster, turning around and walking away.

"I _am_ the cavalry."

Connie glared at him as he walked away. She had already gotten an uncomfortable vibe from the man back on the docks in Thailand, when he cast derisory gazes over her and San as they boarded the Athena. She'd always had a latent aversion to the military, and conflict in general. But even now she couldn't bring herself to speak, regardless of the frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface of her thoughts.

Although he was far out of earshot, Connie whispered to Randa. "Listen, I know this is..personal for you, but you're not actually gonna try to kill it, right?"

"You're not feeling bad for it, are you?"

"Wh - no? I'm just saying that maybe we should just..leave." she stuttered. "Besides, we're the ones that dropped those bombs, it was just.._reacting_."

"And look how that turned out."

Now regrouped with the soldiers, Packard whistled, motioning for Connie and Randa to pack it up.

"It's a new world, Cooper. And we have to decide if we get to be a part of it or not."

Without another word, he got up, walking toward the group of soldiers that already began to start without them. She stood there for a moment in disbelief, finally deciding to jog after them.

_____

"These men did not die in vain." Packard said, jamming the shovel into the dirt next to him.

They hadn't gotten far, only stopping after they came across a downed helicopter, a trail of gray smoke still wafting from its engine. Its pilots were still strapped into their seats, their bodies still warm and already swarming with bugs. One of the Landsat guys that had joined them, Woodward, gagged. Connie couldn't bring herself to watch the soldiers drag them out, and along with Randa, she stood off to the side, letting the men have their moment with their fallen.

Packard was the one to dig out their graves. They were shallow, though there wasn't much to bury save for the two mangled bodies and the tangle of dog tags that he carried with him until then. Even then the graves didn't account for the ones who were still missing, but it was the least they could do. After that, the soldiers in their party said their piece. Most were short and to the point, if they even decided to say anything at all.

"I swear to god, their deaths will not go unanswered." Packard said. "Now let's get to Chapman and those munitions."

There was a certain tone in his voice that made the soldiers that stood around him shift on their feet, nervously glancing at one another to see if they all had heard the same thing. Connie heard it too.

She stayed quiet, keeping her head low as she followed them further into the jungle.


	8. The Green Inferno

They had followed the river through the unbearably humid jungle for at least an hour now, and eventually it had transitioned into a swamp, though that wasn't any better.

The water was green and murky, with tall spires of grass and reeds poking out from beneath the surface. There was no way for them to go around it, as the shallowest pond was caught between two rocky slabs. Connie had no choice other than to grin and bear it as she stepped foot into the warm water, trailing after the soldiers that had already gone in without batting an eye. Her boots sunk into the mud, and it was hard to slosh through the muck and duckweed that was practically inescapable.

Across the pond's surface, water striders, gnats, and dragonflies danced all around them, and much to her discomfort, animals of an unknown sort slithered past her legs beneath the water. She had worried about the sound of them wading through the water would possibly alarm any fauna in the area, but the swamp was alive with the cacophony of creatures. Cricket chirps and bird songs blended together in a surprisingly melodious tune, and Connie caught herself finding it almost pleasant. But there was another sound beyond that, a trilling crackle that seemed to be coming from another section of the pond.

Packard, who had been walking several feet ahead of the troop and was already pulling himself up onto one of the swamp's banks, thrust his fist in the air as he pulled up his gun, staring into its scope. The soldier leading the rest, Cole, repeated the gesture, and everyone froze in place.

She couldn't quite make out what he was seeing, and the crack that splintered down the left lens of her glasses didn't help. But if she squinted, she could almost make out the shape of a bird with an abnormally large beak sitting at the base of the tree, completely oblivious to the gun pointed at it.

"That is one ugly ass bird." he said right before shooting it in the head.

Connie flinched, sucking in a breath in surprise. She wasn't the only one.

What she could have sworn were leaves on the singular tree ahead of them burst into a flock of the same creatures, their squawks filling the air as they flew over them. As they came closer, she saw that they weren't birds at all. They looked more like the flying reptiles she would see at natural history museums.

"Dear Billy," Reles said, staring up at the swarm of primordial creatures flying above them. "This place is hell."

After another motion from the colonel, they kept walking.

"And monsters exist." Mills remarked, keeping his voice low. "Under beds _and_ signing paychecks."

"Come on, man. It sounds like -"

"Like maybe he wants to go kill that ape instead of getting us off this island? Yeah!" he whispered harshly, glancing at Packard. "Are we even gonna make it?"

"Make what?"

"The exfil! We gotta be there in three days!"

"We'll make it, we're gonna make it." Cole cut in, as calm as ever.

"Yeah, but what happens if Chapman's not -"

"Hey. If the colonel said he's there, he's there."

He left it at that, and no one really felt like continuing the argument.

_____

"It's called the Hollow Earth theory."

"And this concerns us how?" Nieves asked.

Petra rolled her eyes.

To fill the silence, the Monarch duo had thought it was a good idea to shuffle between rambling about what seemed to her were glorified bed time stories and the real-life horrors that were surely waiting for them with every step they took. They had only been walking for a little over an hour and she already felt the fatigue setting in.

Or maybe it was just the gash in her side.

It was hard to keep her balance, especially when the slightest pressure sent a jolt of pain clouding her eyes. As they stepped down the path, the tip of her boot caught on a crack in a stone slab, nearly causing her to tumble down with Mason following. But the woman caught her, her hand pressing hard into her shoulders.

"_Whoa_, careful," Mason said as they descended a rocky slope.

Something struck her as odd about the fact there was a trail of nearly linear stones, let alone the fact that they seemed to mimic stairs. And the monolithic boulders they were currently passing through looked an awful lot like walls. She chose not to dwell on it, though. If they had a human origin - and that was a big if - they didn't seem to be around anymore.

"Randa hired me because I wrote a paper," Brooks continued, exasperated. "Substantiating what most people think is a crackpot idea. That there are these massive, underground spaces isolated from the surface world."

"Passageways." San included. "Randa believed this island may be one of those."

"An emergence point for whatever lives below - ancient species like what we just saw. I thought he was out of his mind." Brooks finished.

_God, those two finish each other's sentences like they share the same brain_, she thought. As they finally reached relatively even ground, Petra steadied herself, taking a deep breath as she planted one foot firmly on the ground.

"I _wish_ he was out of his mi -" Petra began before groaning, gritting her teeth in pain. Nearly doubling over, she grabbed Mason's sleeve. She helped her to the ground, sitting next to her on a rocky slab.

"Stop. Stop, _stop_."

"What is it, did you -?"

"No, i-it's just.." she said, voice strained as she unwrapped the gauze, peeling back the bandage beneath.

"_Shit_." Mason breathed.

The whole area around the wound was a flaming red, and it felt like it too. But that wasn't what worried her. Streaks of red ran around it, and there was a sickly yellow-green drainage leaking from its center.

"Uh - _god_, um," she stammered. "Water. Please."

Slivko handed her his canteen, though he was clearly avoiding looking at the infected wound.

With shaking hands, she washed it off, biting back a cry of pain as the water stung against raw flesh. It took all of her concentration to sift through her case before finding a small, portable tube of antibiotics. She hoped it would be enough.

After applying new bandages, she sighed, holding her head in her hands. Her temples throbbed, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground and sleep for a week. But that dream was interrupted by the weight of a gentle yet hesitating hand on her shoulder.

"Are sure you're okay?"

Petra nodded firmly, though she was not so sure herself. Still, she took Mason's hand, standing back up despite the soreness that wracked her body with each movement. She couldn't afford to be left behind. If that happened, she'd be as good as dead. They hobbled forward, almost passing up Conrad.

"What?" she snapped, wincing. "I'm fine."

Sighing, Conrad stepped ahead of them.

_____

It had only taken them around, what Connie guessed, around ten minutes after leaving the swamp for it to open up into another valley, the water from the fragmented ponds combining into a singular, wide river.

The sun had already reached its peak, and the sun was starting to wear down on her. Feeling her bangs sticking to her forehead with sweat, she shoddily tied her hair back, even though most of it was much too short to be completely contained. She reached for the canteen in her bag, grimacing when she found that it was a little less than half full.

As they marched through moist clumps of grass, she could see a pair of those deer - a mother and her fawn - drinking from the river's bank. The fawn perked up, ears flicking forward as it noticed them passing by. The corners of Connie's lips perked up slightly, taking another quick swig from the canteen before putting it back.

Suddenly, right when they reached the center of the small valley, Packard stopped once again. There was a self-satisfied grin on his face that made her skin crawl.

"Well, would you look at that." he said, turning around and pointing his gun at the rocky cliff they had just passed.

She dreaded turning around.

"It bleeds."

Everyone turned around at that, staring up at the cliff face. Without meaning to, a hand flew up to cover her mouth. It was a bloody hand print, a _large_ hand print. It was so eerily humanoid, but that wasn't why it sent a wave of goosebumps down her arms. It could've only been made by that thing, and it looked fresh.

"_We_ did that. We hook up with Chapman, there's enough munitions on that downed Sea Stallion to finish the job." he shouted.

While everyone continued on, clearly uncomfortable, Connie couldn't help but linger at the sight. And so did Randa.

"Magnificent.." he muttered to himself.

"You know why I carry this instead of an M-16?"

Connie flinched, startled out of her daze from the soldier's voice. She looked at him, confused.

"Took it off a farmer fighting for the NVA. He surrendered right after we leveled his village. He was 50 years old, said he'd never even seen a gun 'til we showed up."

_Well that's very noble of you_, she thought. Instead, she shifted her gaze uncomfortably, already making to walk off with the others. But before she could move, he held the gun out to her. Her eyes flickered from the weapon in his hand and up to his face, not sure what to do or what to say. He all but pushed it into her hands when she hadn't responded. Almost fumbling with it, she held the gun in both hands, puzzled.

"Why are you..?"

"Sometimes," Cole continued. "An enemy doesn't exist 'til you go lookin' for one."

It felt heavy in her hands, and she didn't quite know what to do with it other than clumsily sling it over her shoulder.

"What happens when they show up on your doorstep?" Randa interjected.

"You'll still have his gun." he replied, walking away.

"Best of luck with that, soldier." Randa said to himself, following after them.

Connie stayed there for a moment, gaze wandering from the gun back to the hand print. She held her hand up to it, lining up her fingers with the ones painted on the cliff. Slowly, she turned it around, staring at her palm.

Something tugged at the edge of her brain, like when you have a word right on the tip of your tongue that you can't quite fish out. Only the word was being handed to you by someone else - or was trying to. It made no sense, and Connie didn't think she _wanted_ to make sense of it.

"You coming, Coop?" Randa called.

"Yeah." she said, finally walking away. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

_____

"This is Slivko, do you read? Anybody out there?"

Static.

They had finally reached the edge of that section of jungle, and in the open space the boy thought it'd be a good idea to try the radio again. Petra knew it was all folly.

"We're headed north to the exfil location. Everyone here seems way too calm right now."

She grimaced as she swatted through a thick patch of cattails and reeds that were taller than herself, feeling just slightly out of breath as they reached a small valley.

The mist they had seen from above still hovered over the mountains like veils. Across the pond, sitting on logs that jutted out of the water, were those pure white cranes Mason had taken photos of. They crowed, stretching out its wings to catch the sunlight.

"Do you copy? Anybody?"

"We're out of range, Slivko. Save it for when we get closer to the group."

He cursed to himself, shutting off the radio.

Suddenly, just as they were passing in front of them, something within the water rattled, and the cranes flew off with a startled squawk. Conrad jumped to the defensive, pointing the gun in his hand toward the movement. Slivko followed, and like dominoes, everyone else froze in place. Still balancing Petra on her shoulder, Mason readied her camera, eyes wide. Petra found it a little hard to breathe.

The logs in the water had risen, and as they continued to rise with a low rumble, the logs - _horns_ \- were attached to a head. And with that head came a body. It looked like a water buffalo, only it was twice the size of the ones Petra was familiar with. Moss and reeds sprouted from its back and covered its horns as if it were part of the earth itself, like a small mountain come to life. The creature snorted, hot puffs of air spouting from its nostrils.

"Nobody move." Conrad said calmly. "_Easy_."

The buffalo wiggled its ears as it rose to its full height, grumbling like they had just disturbed its slumber. With every movement, they all flinched, and Petra couldn't tell if Slivko was ready to bolt or shoot the first thing that breathed. Conrad shushed them.

The buffalo took a step closer, curious but wary. Its brows seemed to furrow as it focused its gaze on the boy aiming his gun at it, almost like it was judging them, waiting for them to make the wrong move. Petra knew that if the buffalo decided to charge them, it was all over for her. She tried to calm the rapid beating in her chest, breathing steadily through her nose. But after a weighted pause of silence, the creature snorted again, calmly beginning to chew on.._something_. Like it couldn't care less about the fact that a bullet could soar through its head at any moment.

"Slivko." Petra whispered.

"What?" he said, voice hoarse.

"Put. It. Down."

"Are you crazy?!"

Conrad inched towards him, stretching his hand out before placing it on the barrel of his gun, lowering it. In turn, Mason raised her camera, snapping a photo of the creature.

The buffalo blinked once, twice, until finally turning around with a casual swing of its head and returning to its spot in the pond. Slivko let out a breath of relief, Mason smiling as they continued their trek. Petra's gaze lingered on the creature for as long as it could.

_____

They had reached a densely wooded forest, so much so that they were forced to walk in a straight line, weaving through the thin stalks. And they were tall, reaching so high above their heads that the spears blotted out the sun in some pockets.

The gun still hung heavy over her shoulder, and her back had begun to hurt from the added weight of her bag. She had already fallen to the back of the group, but she knew she couldn't stop walking.

"You ever heard the story of the mouse, the lion, and the thorn?" Cole muttered, turning slightly to face Mills, who followed close behind him.

"..Yeah."

"There you go then." he said simply. "In case we ever see that primate again."

"You do know that story is about a mouse becoming _friends_ with the lion after taking the thorn out of his paw, right?"

Cole stopped, looking a little puzzled. "No it's not. The mouse kills the lion with the thorn."

"Who told you that?"

"My mother." 

"That actually explains a lot."

The group continued walking forward, but Connie slowed her pace, rifling through her bag for her canteen before she stopped, hearing a noise from directly behind her.

It sounded like a pole being thrust into the ground, though there were none to be thrown save for the bamboo stalks around them. She didn't want to turn around, feeling a pit of dread form in her gut. But she couldn't help herself, it was almost on instinct. She would instantly come to regret it.

She gasped sharply, feeling a wave of nausea bubble up her throat. Mere feet away from her was the skewered body of a solider she didn't even know the name of. Spearing through his mouth and straight through his body was what looked like bamboo. She stumbled back, bumping into Randa.

_How did this happen? Did someone throw it? No, there's no way, it must've fallen? But how? _

She couldn't make sense of what she was seeing until her eyes followed the bamboo stalk. And then it kept going, and she found that it wasn't bamboo at all. It was a spider. Four, impossibly tall limbs all joined at an equally large, round body. The spider was lazily moving along directly above them, like it hadn't even noticed it just gored another living thing.

Then it retracted its limb, the soldier dropping to the forest floor with a sputter. Lifeless.

Everyone scrambled for cover, shouting over each other in the chaos.

"Oh, _shit_!" - "Watch out!" - "What is it?" - "Watch your six!" - "In the trees!" - "_Guns up_!"

Shots fired all at once, and again, Connie's ears began to ring. She tried to move out of the way, to somehow escape the claustrophobic tumult. But as soon as she took a step forward, she skidded to a stop, one of the screeching spider's legs stabbing right into the ground inches away from her face. She stumbled backward, tripping over her feet as she landed to the ground with a thud. In a panic, she tried to get up, only to find that something had gotten a grip on her bag.

Connie could feel herself starting to hyperventilate, her vision diving in and out of going hazy as she tried to free her bag from whatever it pinned her in place. Then she began to feel herself rise.

"M-My bag - it's got my b-!" her voice cut out with a scream as she felt herself being pulled into the air at a force too quick for her to comprehend.

She wriggled like a dying snake as she saw the spider's body coming closer and closer, while the gunfire from below ceased.

Her mind was racing, and without thinking she slipped her arms out from the straps of her bag, landing back to the ground with a harsh thud. Startled and dazed, she flinched at the sound of gunfire continuing. But none of that mattered.

Springing back to her feet, she bolted, ignoring the throbbing pain in her side that would surely form into a bruise later. Connie thought she heard someone calling after her, but all she heard was muffled white noise, all of it becoming farther and farther away as she flew past the bamboo stalks and out of the forest.

_____

Petra hated how much of a burden she had become.

There were moments, many of them, where she wished they had just left her behind. It would've been easier than hauling her across the island like dead weight. Mason never once protested, but she could tell she was tired. She hated feeling like this, it made her feel pathetic. She was their medic for fuck's sake, and she couldn't even act like one.

As the day crawled on, she could feel her strength crumbling with every step she took. She hesitated calling for breaks, but with the state of her wound, it was getting harder and harder to keep hiking. Especially now that they'd reached a densely packed forest, with rolling hills jutting out of every corner. They tried to stay low, sticking to the most straightforward path they could find. But even then she felt the fuzz of dizziness knocking around her head.

"Need to stop?" Mason asked. It was in such an earnest tone that a part of Petra hated it.

She nodded. "Is that okay?"

"Stay tight." Conrad said. "It looks like there's a clearing up ahead. We can stop there."

Just when they were about to pass into the clearing, the tracker stopped, everyone instinctively pausing as they bunched together. She couldn't see past the trees and the people standing ahead of her, but as soon as she was forced to stand still she felt a pulse of pain radiate from her side. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"What the hell is this?" Slivko said, looking over Conrad's shoulder.

Conrad walked closer, the rest of the group taking cautious steps forward. Now, Petra could clearly see what it was that had grabbed their attention. It was a wall.

Or rather, part of a wall, crumbling and swallowed by moss and vines. As they walked further into the ruins, they passed through a dilapidated archway, the center having completely caved in what she could've guessed centuries ago. It too looked like the earth was trying its best to pull it back to the ground, the bricks that seemed so carefully placed sprouting with plant life. But through the moss and vines, scrawled on the stones were intricate yellow patterns. Petra couldn't tell you what they were, but the Monarch duo looked like they were having the time of their lives.

"Cooper would have had a field day with this." San said, brushing a hand along the archway.

As they entered a clearing, directly across from them was another archway, though this was in much better condition than its twin. Mason snapped a photo. She continued looking around, adjusting her lens before taking another, this time focusing on the strange glyphs that were scrawled across its surface. Just as she was about to press the camera's button, a pair of eyes stared back.


	9. An Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS this one ended up a bit long
> 
> also, updates might be a little slower since i've become a little busy with irl stuff so atm, no more biweekly updates

Mason gasped, almost stumbling backward had it not been for Petra still clinging to her shoulder.

It was a _person_, painted to look startlingly identical to the ruins around them, glyphs and all. And if the spear in their hands wasn't indicative enough, they didn't look too happy. Petra stiffened, as everyone huddled together in a circle, guns drawn.

"Everyone, stay calm." Conrad whispered urgently.

But one person soon became three, until at least a dozen of them emerged from the forest, surrounding them on all sides.

"Stay back!" Brooks shouted.

She felt Slivko's back bump into hers, his voice cracking as a stream of '_stops_' spilled from his mouth like a waterfall.

"Nobody shoot, _nobody shoot_!" Conrad repeated.

No one on either side seemed to want to back down, each party staring daggers into each other, waiting for someone to make the wrong move.

Suddenly, seven more figures appeared through the archway. They didn't carry weapons with them - or so they thought - but they were dressed differently than the ones currently keeping them in place. Instead of stony camouflage, they were adorned in dark red robes and intricately carved jewelry, though the same yellow markings were still present all over their bodies.

"_Please_, our friend is injured, she needs -" Mason attempted to speak before the person in front of her threateningly jabbed their spear closer to her face. Mason reached for the small pistol at her side.

Petra could feel beads of sweat drip from her brow. They were clearly outnumbered, and if this many were around them there were sure to be more. How long had they been here? Or more importantly, how long had they been watching them, waiting for the perfect moment to ambush them?

Brooks readied his rifle with a sharp click, already preparing to shoot.

Until a voice that had not come from their huddle appeared out of nowhere.

"_Whoa_, whoa, whoa - n-no need for that, come on now. Everyone keep your wigs on, now!"

"...What?" Conrad muttered, confused and relieved all at once.

Everyone lowered their guns just slightly at the sight of the stranger. He didn't look like the rest, as he was dressed like one of those old pilots from World War II. Petra wasn't sure if it was the infection somehow reaching her brain, but she almost didn't believe was she was seeing.

"I didn't believe it when they said you were coming." he said, staring at them as though they might all disappear. "I was up all night, just thinking about how me and Gunpei dreamed of this moment.

"What the hell.." Petra whispered under her breath.

"And now here it is, 28 years, 11 months, and eight failed attempts to get back to the world..and instead the world comes to _me_?" the man laugh, disbelieving. "Ain't that a crack?"

The man turned around, smiling at all the other people around them as if they were all in on some inside joke. Petra wasn't amused in the slightest.

"They never smile." the man punctuated the statement with a weak chuckle.

"Did you crash here?" Mason asked carefully.

"Oh - sorry, miss." the man saluted, standing up a little straighter. "Lieutenant Hank Marlow of the 45th. Put the old flight suit on for ya." he said, proudly tugging at the worn-down bomber jacket.

She nodded slowly, looking at him from head to toe in the most nonjudgmental way she could manage.

"Hold on." Petra spoke up. She tried to ignore the rasp in her voice. "You.._knew_ we were coming?"

"Yes, ma'am. They told me you were coming, what? Two, three days ago?" he pointed to the people behind him. "Didn't seem to happy about it, though. Said you were bad news. But they don't look so bad, right?"

"That's impossible, how could they -" Brooks began before being interrupted.

"You..are more beautiful than a hot dog and a beer at Wrigley Field on opening day." he said slowly, eyes mindlessly wandering down to his hands that he had unknowingly held up before him before blinking himself out of the daze.

"But you're real..." he closed his hands into fists, squinting his eyes as he stared at them. "Right?"

No one spoke, not knowing what they could possibly say.

Marlow turned around to address the people behind him. "I told ya, didn't I tell ya? I said, 'it's fine'."

Still completely emotionless, they all drew back their spears, relaxing. Somewhat.

"There we go."

"There's something out there, man." Slivko said, the worry in his voice painfully obvious.

"Oh, there's _a lot_ out there." Marlow nodded. "Now, come on. We gotta get home."

"Conrad," Petra whispered. "We aren't seriously gonna follow this guy, are we?"

"You don't wanna be out here at night. 'Specially with something as nasty as _that_." he chuckled lightly, glancing down at Petra clutching her wound. He turned around swiftly, walking toward the archway.

"Well, you comin'?"

For a second, they all looked at each other. They didn't have much of a choice.

_____

Connie hadn't known where she had run off to, or for how long, but each time she felt a branch tug at her arms the more she wanted to get farther away.

The bamboo forest was already nothing but a speck behind her, but she could still feel that spider's limbs wrapping itself around her. She couldn't breathe, and her legs were screaming for her to stop, but the sprawling jungle just kept coming, almost like she had been caught in a loop. Everything blurred together, and Connie wasn't sure if she was just running in one giant circle.

And then there were the noises.

It was like the forest was alive. At seemingly every corner there was a rustle in the bushes, a chitter or a screech. It was suffocating. It felt like every little thing around her was trying to grab her and rip her apart. In that moment, the only thought in her mind was to run, to get as far away from the trees and the monsters and the soldiers. As if that would take her home.

Either way, she knew she had gotten herself hopelessly lost.

She slowed her pace, nearly collapsing there on the rain forest floor. Without her jacket, her arms had become covered in scratches, a few of them drawing tiny pinpricks of blood to the surface.

She could feel herself wanting to cry, but she couldn't even produce the tears to do so. With no one around to hear her, she let herself sob, falling to the ground on shaky legs. _Congratulations_, she thought, _now you're really never getting off this island_.

Hearing something move among the bushes somewhere behind her, she got up, struggling to find her balance before stumbling away. She couldn't stay put for long, as it was an even surer death sentence.

_Not that this place cares_.

Though her body still ached, the walk was much easier. Still, she wanted to kick herself for not grabbing her bag at least. Now, she was lost, alone, and carrying nothing but an old gun that she didn't even know how to use. She felt tears prickle out of the corners of her eyes.

But, impossibly, through the constant background noise of the jungle and the things that dwell in it, there was the sound of water. Suddenly feeling one last burst of energy, her pace quickened, pushing through branches and dodging boulders until she broke through the treeline. She skidded to a stop, nearly tumbling into the water below had she not grabbed onto a tree branch at the last possible second.

She was suddenly met with a lagoon, its murky green water gently lapping at the craggy treeline that sharply dropped away. She was surrounded by hills, and somewhere beyond that she heard a flock of birds lazily passing by. It didn't seem too deep, and dipping her foot in the water, she found that it was a surprisingly comfortable temperature. Slipping into the water, it came up just below her waist, her boots sinking slightly into the pebbles and muck that made up the riverbed. Placing her glasses beside the gun on top of a boulder that jutted out of the water, she waded through the shallows.

Dipping her arms into the water, she washed away the blood and grime that had already begun to scab. It was then that she noticed that there were still dried clumps of blood from the cut on her temple still clinging to her hair. Grabbing handfuls of water, she poured them over her head, running her fingers through her hair as she washed the blood away. She let out a tired sigh.

Connie stood there for a moment, letting the blood and dirt-laden water trickle down her face.

She couldn't believe she had been so stupid, but there was nothing more she could do than pick a direction to walk toward and hope for the best. She wanted to scream, thinking that maybe if she was loud enough they would be able to hear her. _Something else might_, she thought. But what else did she have to lose.

With all the energy and frustration she could muster, the ripped the scream from her mouth, throat raw as the manifestation of her anger and fear echoed down the misty channel.

Everything was quiet.

Wiping away the tears that had formed at the corners of her eyes, she started back to where she had placed her glasses. She didn't feel any better, but it was a start.

Just as she was about to take another step, she paused. It was a rumble at first, a slight vibration through the water that sent broad ripples ringing across its surface some distance away. Then she heard trees bending, snapping, falling into the water as whatever it was got closer and closer. Faintly, birds chirping with alarm flew away in a hurry. Her blood ran cold.

Of course this would happen. Of course.

From just around the hill closest to her came a rush of water, pushed aside by something large. _The monster_.

In seconds she saw its arms swinging at its side as it lazily lumbered across the lagoon, back turned to her. She scrambled for the boulder, ducking behind it and sinking lower into the water. There was no way she could possibly make it out of its line of sight without drawing even more attention to herself. As quietly as she could, she pulled the gun to her side, clumsily placing her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. She poked her head from behind the boulder.

It had turned around now, looking around for the source of th scream as it walked in her direction. She whipped her head back behind the rock, a series of '_oh shits_' flying through her mind as she turned the gun over in her hand. Even if she _did_ know how to use it, what could it do? The helicopters had barely left a scratch on it. Yes they had managed to injure it, but for all she knew, it was unkillable. She gulped, feeling a rush of fear as she took another look at the creature.

She let out a sigh of relief.

It didn't seem nearly as interested anymore, as it had stopped walking toward her. Now, it simply stood there, sniffing the air. The creature let out a low rumble, looking down at its arm. Connie's gaze followed it, and saw that there was a deep gash marring its fur, its mossy color stained with red. That _had_ to hurt. The creature then brought up a hand, lightly poking its arm and looking down at the blood that now stained it. With a tired look in its eyes, it sat down directly in front of where she hid. For a moment, she thought her heart stopped.

Holding its injured arm with the other, it prodded the wound again, letting out a pained roar. It seemed frustrated - with itself or with the people that caused it, Connie wasn't sure. But she couldn't bring herself to blame it. She felt herself relax, though she was still ready to spring back into the jungle at any moment. If she could even be given the chance.

The creature was still squatting, staring down at the water that had since grown still. It poked its glassy surface, staring down at its own reflection for a moment before scooping water into its hand and pouring it over the wound. It growled as it washed the blood away, baring its teeth in irritation.

From this distance, she noticed the long, thin scars that raked across its body. She had to admit that she felt a twinge of guilt seeing it like this. Despite its size, it really was just another animal, hurt by man's carelessness.

Once the creature had washed a good portion of the blood away, it scooped up another handful of water, this time bringing it up to its mouth. As it drank, Connie began to back away. If she could just make it back to the shore and pull herself out of the water, she could attempt to hike on her own. She had a vague idea of the direction the rest of the group had been headed toward, and anything would be better than letting herself wallow in self pity in the middle of nowhere.

But as soon as Connie began to move away from the boulder, the ape snapped, letting out a roar as it punched through the water. She froze in place, expecting to be swatted like a fly at any second. What she wasn't expecting was to see the creature's hand retreat from the water, holding a slimy, writhing tentacle in its fist. Connie gripped the rifle.

With a harsh tug, a flurry of limbs bloomed from the beneath the water's surface, flying up at the ape. In seconds, they coiled around it, trying to pull them both under. With a roar, it tried with all its strength to pull itself away from the giant cephalopod, only to further entangle itself in its limbs.

Just as she was beginning to worry that it would become overwhelmed, the aquatic creature's mantle bobbed at the water's surface. And with one swift stomp, the ape crushed it, sending a burst of black ink jetting from the cephalopod and into the water. Limply, the tangle of limbs fell back into the water, and the writhing stopped.

Connie backed away.

Realizing that she could've slipped into the jungle without trouble then, she started wading back to shore a little quicker, holding her breath as though that would keep the creature's attention diverted for longer. But as luck would have it, something within the water behind her disturbed the surface with a soft splash. She begrudgingly turned around.

She didn't get the chance to see what it was before she felt her leg get roughly pulled out from under her, the rest of her body following. Water rushed past her before she resurfaced again, barely holding onto the glasses that had almost completely fallen off of her face. She was upside down now, the gun that was slung around her shoulder tapping the back of her head. Her lungs were gasping for air, and blood was already rushing to her head, causing a dull pounding behind her eyes. She let out a strangled scream as she was met with another maroon-colored tentacle, pulling her back into the lagoon.

This time, the ape _did_ notice her, or at least, it noticed the second squid that surfaced. For a split second she saw its brows bunch together in annoyance. Shrugging off the tentacles that still clung to its arms, it ambled its way over to the flailing mass of limbs that was still trying its best to drown her.

It was hard for her to focus, and even harder to breathe with the tentacle still dangling her in the air like a ragdoll. She could feel herself wanting to faint, but she clung to what little consciousness that remained. Gritting her teeth, she reached for the gun, struggling to grasp it as it kept slipping out of her hands before grabbing the strap, pulling it into her arms. There was a lull in the chaos where she floated on the water's surface, and taking the rifle in hand, she aimed at the limb. She didn't hesitate as she pulled the trigger, only to freeze up when nothing happened.

The safety was still on.

"_No no no no no_ -"

Flicking it off, she cocked the rifle, pulling the trigger once again. The bullet only nicked the tentacle, but it embedded itself deep into the squid's mantle.

She wanted to laugh in triumph, but suddenly, she was dunked under water yet again. She couldn't see past the rush of bubbles that flew to the surface. Sunlight filtered down, and her lungs began to burn. Her grip on the gun was loosening with every passing second, and for a moment she almost let it slip away as she floated to the bottom of the lagoon.

Until the sunlight was blocked out by something much bigger than her, and it wasn't the squid.

A giant fist broke through the water, grabbing the cephalopod's mantle and pulling it into the air. And Connie with it. She barely reached the surface, taking in breaths so deep it hurt. She could hardly see what was happening, only that another fight had broken out. It was a flurry of limbs and roars,until she saw the blurred figure of the ape startlingly close to her. In one swift movement, there was a flash of fangs, and the squid's mantle was ripped apart by teeth.

The tentacle was still wrapped around her leg, and it didn't seem to want to let go anytime soon. But she still hadn't fallen back into the water.

She looked up.

Only a few feet away from her was a massive, amber eye. She couldn't scream - she couldn't even move - but like the growing darkness around the edges of her vision, she felt herself slip away into unconsciousness.

_____

Everything was dark.

Not the type of dark that you could see if you closed your eyes. It was a void, in every sense of the word. Connie was sure that she had died, either from fright or some unseen injury she had been dealt during the brawl at the lagoon. But somehow, she knew that she hadn't, despite being surrounded by that same jet black void she had dreamed about so often.

Only this did not feel like a dream.

She felt wide awake, but in the sense that she was still trapped in that sluggish, groggy state. And it didn't help that it felt like she was lying down on nothing and something simultaneously, so she got up, or at least she thought she had. She couldn't tell, as nothing about the environment really changed. But there was something that had, and it left her floating frozen in fear. Something was watching her, and it didn't take much to guess who it might've been.

_...Hello?_

Hearing her own not-voice startled her, and she didn't know if speaking would even work in the first place. If this was even a place to begin with. It was ridiculously disorienting, and the longer she remained suspended in the void the more she wanted to leave.

But out of the void, like in the dream, a sound - a _voice_ \- like rolling thunder boomed all around her.

_I thought I told you to stay away_

Connie was speechless. This had to be a dream, or worse.

_Am I..dead?_

The voice laughed, mocking. _You will be if you choose to continue ignoring me_

_And who are 'you', exactly?_

_You really aren't from here, are you? For a Speaker you aren't really...good_

Now Connie wanted to laugh. _Good? _**_Good_**_?! I'm sorry, but I don't recall asking for any of this! Whatever this is_

_Then you should have turned around as soon as you saw that storm_

Connie couldn't help herself. Frustrated, disbelieving giggles bubbled up from somewhere she had tried hard to repress.

_Why are you laughing?_

The voice sounded so genuine, and like a flip had been switched she found her giggles slowly dissolve into quiet, distressing sobs.

_Why are you..crying?_

She reeled herself back in, inwardly cringing when her voice somehow cracked. _I'm gonna die here, aren't I_

The voice grumbled in annoyance, and in the blink of an eye Connie saw that the void was receding.

_Wait, wh-what's happening? Hey, H-_

"- ey!"

Connie awoke with a shudder, like her lungs had filled with a sudden rush of air. She was shivering, and her hair was still damp, and like that everything was coming back to her all at once. She was sitting on something, but she was obviously moving. Trees and hills and rivers passed her by faster than they could have had she been walking on her own. Her stomach dropped.

She had been sitting in the palm of a large, calloused hand. And upon looking up, her eyes followed a long, furry arm. She nearly passed out again once she saw the large pair of eyes glaring down at her.

_____

Petra wasn't quite sure if she trusted the natives, let alone Marlow, but there wasn't anything she could do but follow them deeper into the jungle.

It was a bad idea. And she would've blown off the man's offer to take them back to their village had it not been for the promise of medical care. Or whatever passed for it, anyway. At this point, she was willing to try anything. With what was surely an infection spreading at a rapid rate, she didn't have the time refuse any glimmer of help even if she wanted to.

Walking had become difficult. With almost every step, there was a painful reminder of her rushed stitching literally falling apart at the seams. But after the ten or so minutes of walking through those archways and down a hidden path, the trees had opened up into a small clearing that faded into a grassy riverbank. Along its shore were a handful of canoes, and their accidental tour guides were already beginning to board.

"Where _are_ we going, exactly?" Conrad asked.

"You'll see." Marlow said with a knowing smirk.

Mason stepped inside one of the boats, helping Petra in after her. She grit her teeth as she folded herself into the thin space, the gash folding with her. It was hard to keep herself from falling off the tiny boat each time she became wracked with shivers. If these people had something to help her, it had to be some sort of miracle.

As soon as everyone was settled into their respective canoes, they pushed away from the shore, drifting down a mossy green channel that wove through the island's hills like a serpent. Overhead, a flock of those same white, phantomesque cranes that they had seen so many times before zipped past them, disappearing behind a mountain.

As the parade of canoes rounded another bend, the channel widened into a single valley. And to everyone's shock, at the end of the river was a wall.

It was an accumulation of hundreds - if not thousands - of logs all woven together to form a massive bastion. There were even more logs pointing toward the sky, sharpened like spears. And hanging from the wall were red banners waving gently in the breeze, with similar white symbols painted on the front. Mason took a picture.

The wall was far more intimidating as they drew nearer, and Petra hated that the sound of a horn blaring from the lead canoe almost made her flinch.

There was a moment of silence, only the sound of the water around them and the distant chirp of crickets filling the air. Slowly, the wooden wall began to groan, and like a curtain, its bottom panels started to rise. As they passed under the log curtain and through the wall, the river widened into a valley, and in its center was a small isle. Petra could hear Mason hide a gasp, though her eyes were full of awe.

She couldn't make them out until they got closer, but as the canoes reached the shore she was met with dozens of hand-woven huts. And the people that lived in them.

"You probably noticed a lot of weird things on this island." Marlow commented. "As long as we stay in here, we'll be all right."

"I'd rather not be here at _all_." she heard Nieves mutter from the back of the group.

"That wall," Mason began, slinging Petra's arm over her shoulder as she hauled her out of the canoe. "Is that supposed to keep out that thing?"

"The _monkey_? Nah, he's not the one they're trying to keep out."

"..What?" Brooks asked, trailing after Marlow with what looked like at least a dozen questions in his head. "Are you saying there's something _worse_?"

Marlow paused, turning around with a strange look in his eye. "Oh, there's something alright." He nodded his head toward the path that led into the village before walking off.

Petra's jaw tightened. She didn't know how much more cryptic bullshit she could take for one day, but she was already reaching her limit.

"How have they managed to survive this long?" San mused.

"These people live up on top of the trees while we're down on the roots. Some of them don't even seem to age."

As they walked through the village, she could feel her skin prickle with the feeling of eyes all over her. The people around them didn't seem outwardly hostile, the exact opposite really. They were just going about their day just like any other person - a man turning over sizzling fish on a fire, a woman watering a budding garden, a group of people hauling baskets full of hay and reeds. This wasn't her first time in a place where she didn't belong, but for some strange reason, she truly felt like a stranger.

"There's no crime, no personal property. They're past all that."

Suddenly, Marlow stopped. A group of people approached them, led by two figures that felt much different than the ones she had seen before. They looked much older, and instead of being adorned in that same red cloth and yellow markings, they wore blue and green, with blue and white markings all over them. Marlow held out his hands, staring at them expectantly. Unsure of what she was waiting for, Petra held her breath.

She tensed, her nerves feeling like a cat with its back arched and its hair standing on end. It felt like they were staring at her, _really_ staring. Like they saw her for what she really was, and what they had all really been there for. She shifted her weight on one foot, not wanting to look them in the eye in fear of..something.

But then they bowed their heads, the passive far-away gaze not leaving their faces for a second.

"Thank you." Marlow whispered as he bowed in return.

And just like that, they walked past them. Petra breathed.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Good news." Marlow said. "They said you can shack up here."

"I..didn't hear them say anything." Conrad commented.

"Oh, they don't speak too much. Not in the way that you're used to, at least. When you've been here as long as I have, you start to understand. You'll see."

"Wait a minute - _wait, wait, wait_." Nieves pushed himself through Brooks and Conrad, stopping in front of Marlow. "We can't stay here, we have to get off the island - we have lives, I have a _life_."

Marlow nodded, though it didn't seem like the gravity of their situation was clicking as fast as Petra had hoped.

"Nieves, now is not the time. Alright?" Conrad muttered.

"You see," Marlow said. "What lands here tends to stay here."

Like a looming specter, the shadow of a colossal structure caught Petra's eye. Almost like it was telling her to look at it. Though, she regretted the action immediately when she felt a chill pass over her.

It was a ship, an old one from the look of it. All rust and pipes with crawling lichen and other flora pulling it back to the earth, the word 'WANDERER' could barely be read on its crumbling hull. Mason snapped a photo, catching rays of light filtering through the ship like a phantom. Marlow stepped up beside them, squinting against the sunlight as he stared with them.

"As far as I can tell, she washed up about ten years before I did."

"You've been here since '44?" Mason asked incredulously.

"Yeah." he said with a laugh. His eyes didn't reflect its humor.

"So what happened with the war? Did we win?" he asked, ducking under a rusted out hole in the wall of the ship.

"Depends on which one you're talking about." Petra said.

Marlow groaned. "That makes sense."

Her face scrunched in discomfort as she followed them deeper into the ship. As they entered what looked like a hallway, lit only by a row of torches, she saw more of those people. Standing as still as a statue against the wall. And scrawled on the walls of the ship itself were more of those markings. She wondered what they said, if they meant anything at all.

"This is all hallowed ground to them, so if you like your hands, don't touch anything." he said under his breath, glancing at Brooks and San, who looked about as taken with the place as they had with that snake corpse.

"This has been a real nice tour and all, but are they actually gonna help me or should I walk myself out?" Petra grunted, feeling a sharp jab of pain dig into her abdomen.

"We're getting to that." Marlow said, stepping into an opening at the end of the hallway.

He paused, taking off his cap as he stepped inside the hollowed out center of the ship. It was illuminated solely by sunlight and twin rows of torches. All too suddenly, Petra was hit with a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time. It was like she had been sent back to those moments when her parents would dutifully bring her and her brother along to church services on Sunday mornings, when she couldn't quite understand why it was so important in the first place. Only there was _something_ in this ship, something so tangible it made her nauseous.

"Look at that.." Mason whispered under her breath.

Inside were more people dressed in blue, with the markings to match. Behind them were regular villagers, all of them standing up from kneeling positions to stare at the strange newcomers. As they filtered out of the temple, the ones in blue stayed behind, staring straight at her. They stepped toward her, and as Petra was about to take two steps back, Marlow stopped her.

"Hey, it's all right, they're not gonna bite ya."

Mason nudged her with her arm, her hand lingering on her shoulder reassuringly. Petra took one careful step into the temple, following the people that beckoned after her at a distance she deemed safe enough. Once inside, the scope of the place finally hit her. It was like a cathedral, complete with paintings that were surely sacred.

"The way they tell it, for thousands of years the people on this island lived in fear. That's a hell of a long time to be scared."

Conrad and Slivko approached a series of thin slabs of stone, walking in front of them at just the perfect position to see that the streaks of paint etched on its surface fit together like a puzzle. On the stones were two ghoulish maws, complete with rows of pointed teeth. Fending them off were small humanoid figures, each carrying pathetically small spears.

"And then one day, the damnedest thing happened."

Brooks and San stepped in front of another series of stones, this one depicting a familiar ape-like face with more smaller humans praying at its likeness.

"Some of the things they were afraid of started protecting them against the things that were eating them."

Mason passed by more, the stones in this set depicting two skeletal figures with that same ape staring down at them, mourning. Brows knitting together, Petra felt something tighten in her chest.

"But nothing lasts forever, I guess."

Suddenly, the people stopped dead in their tracks. Marlow's pace slowed too as they all stood in front of what looked like a natural well, its water spilling over the bowl of boulders and through the cracks in the brick floor they stood upon. Behind the well were more of those stones, but much larger. On the series of monoliths was a painting of the monkey, arms splayed out in an almost protective gesture, accompanied by what looked like an army of humans, pointing their spears out at any that dared challenge them. Or their god.

"And this is where they honor the last of their saviors..._Kong_."

_____

Connie bit back a scream, screwing her eyes shut as she held on for dear life.

She had no idea where the creature was going, or why it was taking her with it, but a part of her almost wished she had been drowned by the squid. It was a far better thought than being trapped in the fist of a giant monkey that seemed to prefer jumping from hill to hill rather than walking. But much to her relief, the thing stopped after scaling up the side of a hill.

She was shaking, and just slightly dizzy from vertigo, but Connie managed to crawl over to one of the cracks between its fingers. Outside, she saw that they had still been following that river, and the closely knit hills she last remembered seeing had now widened into a valley. She pounded her fists against the hand,

"H-Hey! I _know_ you can hear me!" she stuttered.

Just like that, the hand unfolded itself, and Connie had to shield herself from the sudden barrage of light. Blinking through the brightness, she saw its eyes - ones that had been previously scanning the horizon for something she couldn't quite see - glaze over her, uninterested. It snorted.

_You don't have to shout. I'm right here_

She flinched. She was never getting used to that.

"Right...um.." she rubbed her arm, looking around the valley while trying not to fall off of her perch.

The sun had reached its peak, and none of it looked familiar save for that mountain in the distance with the split down the middle. She sighed, not quite ready to accept that she was having a conversation with a giant monster and was instead going through a serious concussion of some sort.

"You don't - I mean, it's not that this place is _bad_, but - do you happen to know a way out? Of here?"

_No_

"...W-what?"

_What lands here stays here. I cannot control that_

She ran her hands through her hair, pushing back the strands that kept falling in front of her face.

"I-I don't think you understand, I can't stay here forever!"

_I think it's you that won't understand, Speaker_

She sighed. "That's not my - _why_ do you keep calling me that?"

The ape didn't answer, so she sat back down, loosely crossing her arms.

"So, uh...where exactly are we going then?"

It looked off into the distance, squinting through the harsh sunlight and past the hills. It let out a snort.

_Where all you little ones are. I suggest you hang on_

"Great, just g - wait..._little ones_?"

_____

"He's king around here. He's _god_ to these people."

As two of the people dressed in blue bowed to the painting of their deity, the third stayed behind, turning to Petra and lifting the hem of her shirt.

"Uh, is this -?"

She turned to look at Marlow, but immediately he gestured for her to zip it.

Looking ahead, she saw the others walk up to the well - one taking what looked like an empty nautilus shell and dunking it into the water and the other behind handed a mortar with the pestle still inside it from some other person that had emerged from behind the well. At that same moment, the one by her side held her shirt up with one hand, the other delicately unwrapping the bandage from her abdomen. Petra flinched, feeling the stitches threaten to unravel as the gauzy material scratched against them.

She didn't want to look at the wound, she was already expecting the worst.

Then the other two walked up to her, the one with the mortar staying back while the one with the shell walked up to her. He held up the shell to her, droplets of water spilling from its sides. Not receiving any cues from Marlow or the villagers, she bent down slightly, letting him hold the shell to her lips to drink.

"Kong's a pretty good king. Keeps to himself mostly."

The water was surprisingly sweet and crisp, like the freshest spring water she had ever tasted. Savoring it, she hadn't even noticed how streams of water leaked from the sides of her mouth as she finished all that was in the shell.

"This is his home, after all. We're just _guests_ here."

Then the woman with the mortar walked up to her, and she dipped her fingers in the substance within it. It smelled like herbs, and there was a green hue to it, with assorted bits of other colors that looked to be the remains of some type of flower. Rubbing it onto the wound, Petra hissed, closing her eyes for a brief moment until the stinging began to subside. It felt cool on her skin, and it was more relieving than she could begin to describe.

_Should ask if they'll let me take some back home_, she thought, though she doubted that would be a possibility.

"But you don't go into someone's house and start dropping bombs unless you're picking a fight." Marlow finished, glaring at them. Petra felt the skin on her back prickle with the hint of guilt.

The villagers stepped away, and Petra breathed out a 'thank you'. It was remarkable, in a sort of scary way, at how much better she was already beginning to feel. They all gave her a curt bow before walking past her and out of the temple.

"Wasn't Kong the one who killed your friend?" Mason wondered.

There was a long, weighted pause. This was the most serious she had seen Marlow since they had met, and it didn't sit easy with her.

"No," he shook his head. "One of _them_ did."

All of their eyes followed where his hand pointed, and they saw another set of those stone paintings. This one, however, made a chill run down her spine.

"Kong's god on the island," he said. "But the devils live below us."

It was some reptilian creature, hunched over with long arms, sharp claws, and a whip-like tail in place of legs. It wasn't like anything she had ever seen, and a part of her wondered how such a thing could even exist.

"What are they called?" Conrad prodded.

Marlow's eyes shifted around the room, clearly growing uncomfortable the more he danced around the subject.

"The Iwis won't speak their name, but we - _I_ \- call them Skullcrawlers."

"Well that sounds lovely." Petra muttered, finding it hard to draw her gaze away from the painting's haunting, skeletal features.

"They're big lizard things - _nasty_." he shuddered. "They come from these vents deep down in the island, that's why Kong got so mad."

Brooks rubbed his eyes from behind his glasses. "_Shit_...the bombs."

Marlow nodded.

"Tell you what, you're lucky he's out there too or you wouldn't have made it this far."

Marlow stepped away from the painting, but the disgust was still evident in his voice. "They're crafty bastards, mean as hell."

"And he..fights them? All on his own?" San said.

"He can handle them as long as he gets to them when they're still small." Marlow's brows knit together. "But you don't wanna wake up the big one."

Looking around again, he motioned for them all to huddle closer to him. Without thinking twice, they did.

"They call her Ramarak." he spoke as though his head would explode at the mere mention of the creature's name.

"How big is she?" San whispered.

"It's bigger, wiped out his whole family."

"Damn.." Slivko muttered.

"Kong's the last of his kind, but he's still growing. And you better hope he does. Because the Iwis say once Kong goes, then the big one comes up. Then it's goodnight, Irene." he said with a nervous chuckle.

"Listen, there's a refueling team coming to the north end of the island in three days." Conrad interrupted.

"You should come with us." Mason added.

Marlow laughed. "To the north end of the island? _In three days_?"

"We're gonna get out of here." Conrad nodded, smiling along with the man.

But Marlow kept laughing, patting Conrad's cheek until he wasn't smiling.

"You can't get to the north end in three days." he said, stepping away from them. "It's impossible. That's it, _no way_."

"At least not on foot."

_____

"Please tell me we're there."

They hadn't been on the move for long, but jumping from hill to hill was already making her head spin and her empty stomach churn. Though, she was quickly finding herself getting used to it.

The ape grunted.

_Quiet_

"Wh - I doubt anything can hear me, what do you mean _quiet_? Hey-!"

Connie found herself being lowered to the ground, and the sudden movement knocked her around the closed fist of the creature that held her captive. Her heart pounded, trying not to let the sudden spike of anxiety get to her head.

The ape's hand landed on the ground with a soft thud, and as it opened its hand, it all but flung her off like a dice. It took her a moment for her head to settle, and being on stable ground felt weird, but she managed to find her balance. That didn't stop her from stumbling slightly when the smell of something noxious wafted through the air. Something like sulfur.

Looking around, she saw a cloud of yellow-green gas rise from a massive hole in the ground. The air that left it was hot, and she could already feel herself starting to sweat. She took a few steps closer, trying to peer down the tunnel.

"What is that?" she thought out loud.

The ape smashed down an open palm like a wall between her and the hole.

_Nothing you want to concern yourself with_

"_Okay_," she drawled. "But seeing how I'm apparently on this place for the rest of my natural life, I think I should -"

Something ahead of them snapped. But it didn't sound like a tree, it was something thicker than that. Sharper.

"Please tell me you heard that."

The ape stood up from its crouched position to its full height. It was staring at a pile of something that at first she had thought was just a mound of grass. But looking closer, she found that the grass had merged with fur, and that it was moving. But it didn't look natural, it was like something was digging through whatever was left of the carcass. The ape let out a barking huff. It looked pissed.

_Hide, but don't stray too far_

That was when she heard a chittering call coming from the carcass, and from it she saw a strange, reptilian creature rise up to stare the ape in the eye. Its maw was dripping with blood and carrion. She felt herself freeze, backing away so slowly it felt like she was walking underwater.

But as if it couldn't have gotten any worse, there was another trill from behind, and crawling above one of the smaller hills around them was another one of those things, its tail whipping in the air as it snapped its jaws at the ape.

_GO_

Connie didn't question the monkey ordering her around, simply nodding as she sprinted for the treeline.

That was when the bloodstained lizard launched itself at the ape, letting out a screech when it became caught in their fists. They threw it to the ground, skidding into the one behind them as it galloped on its two legs. Connie let out a yelp as dirt and rocks sprayed down on her as she slid behind a bush, shielding her head behind her arms.

She peek through the leaves the hid her - poorly, she assumed - and watched as the ape took one of the creatures by the jaws and smashed it to the ground. Without missing a beat, they whipped a fist around, connecting with the first one's head like a seasoned fighter.

Before it had the chance to recover, it became caught in a headlock, though he hadn't had the chance to finish it off before the second sprung back on its tail. With an aggravated roar, they grabbed it by its throat, holding it on the ground as its claws scraped at their arm.

There was almost a rhythm to the way the ape fought, and judging from the map of scars that marked their body she knew that it wasn't their first run-in with the lizards. And there was a certain emotion in their eyes when they glared at them, a seething hatred.

Not showing any mercy, they bashed the head of the one under his arm into the one they held down on the floor with a crack. Connie couldn't suppress the flinch when they stomped a foot down on the second one's head, its skull fracturing with a snap. Without another moment of movement, the ape roared.

They let out a puff of air that Connie guessed was an exasperated sigh as they sat on the ground, catching their breath.

_It's fine now_

Connie stepped out from the bushes, cautiously stepping toward the ape and the defeated reptiles.

"I can see that."

The things were even scarier up close, their elongated jaws filled with rows of jagged, razor sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue that lolled out the side of its mouth like a flail. Their faces looked almost skeletal, demonic, like their skin was so transparent that it barely stretched across their bones. They made her skin crawl.

"What on earth.."

_Crawlers, _he spoke, nodding to the vent in the ground.

_They come from the hollows_

Connie hummed. "There's more of them, aren't there."

The ape nodded.

"Are you okay?"

They looked down at her, their frown waning to a softer, less noticeable frown.

_Of course I am...worry about about yourself_

They paused before splaying their hand on the ground for her to climb on.

_Come on. We have to keep moving_

_____

Marlow led them out of the temple, and for the first time since before the crash, Petra was able to walk on her own.

"We were this close to getting it working." he said to Conrad. "Me and Gunpei were gonna take off for the open sea, try to get home."

He looked wistful. "That's when one of those things got him."

Nobody knew what to say, so instead they continued to follow him back into the village. Until there was a thunder in the distance. _No, not thunder_, Petra realized. _Footsteps_.

_____

After what felt like ages, they finally reached their destination. Connie could hardly contain herself.

It was a wall, a genuine, hand-made wall. She practically stumbled off of the ape's hand as she approached it, pushing her glasses higher up her nose as she took it all in. The banners, the writing - it didn't look like any ruins she had come across in previous years. The complete opposite. This was being maintained.

"There's..there's people living here?"

_Is that so hard to believe?_

"No! N-No, it's just..never mind." she stuttered, walking up to the massive wall. "Do I, uh, knock?"

_No need. They already know you're here_

With that, the ape began to walk away, back beyond the hills.

"Wait!"

They paused, turning around.

"Um, thank you...uh," she mumbled.

There was a moment of silence, and for a moment Connie thought she had angered them. But they let out a puff of air, nodding.

_Kong_

She quirked a quick smile. "Right, thanks for, uh, all that."

There was a spike of nervousness as she saw him leave, but that was soon quelled by the sound of the wooden wall groaning behind her. Looking back at it, she saw its panels lift, pulleys squeaking as it revealed the other side. She wanted to gasp, but she found herself too awestruck to move.

There was a large group of people waiting there, all staring at her. And through the group of natives, she saw a few familiar faces.

Brooks shouted at her from the other side of the wall. "_Connie?!_"


End file.
